Lil Bit Of Sherlolly
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: I've been getting some propmts and I need a place to put them. They will live here. Ratings will vary (check A/N for ratings.) They may be long or short. They may be funny or angsty or smut filled. But they will surely be all Lil. (psst... the first one is rated K ; ) Thank you for reading!
1. Sometimes It Sneaks Up On You

_**Anonymous said:** You should write a little fic with Sherlock sneaking up on Molly like your husband sneaked up on you. ^_~ Okay... I'll share the story... just in case you're interested..._

 _-I'm in the kitchen just now (the kids in their rooms, being good little boys) and I had no idea where Mr Lil was, he'd wandered off several minutes before. I'm just singing away (no earbuds, mind you) and my husband (my 6′3″ husband… I mean he's a big dude!) sneaks up on me (like a giant ninja!) and grabs my behind!_

 _Okay… I screamed at the TOP of my lungs! Then jumped (yes, I can still jump) like a foot in the air and turned on him grabbing him around the neck. Of course at this point I realize it's the man I married 12 years ago and not some phantom groper, so I hold onto him for dear life! He's cracking up and I'm having heart palpitations.-_

 _MizJoley betaed this and suggested a sexy follow-up. If I write one I'll post it here in the Prompts. This is rated **K**. I own nothing. ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-Sometimes It Sneaks Up On You-**

Sherlock Holmes wasn't playful. No, _playful_ wasn't a word often used to describe the detective. However, he was in a very good mood today. He'd just solved a case, an interesting one involving a bee keeper and his unfaithful wife. Bees had always fascinated him; their precision, their single-mindedness, their finely honed senses. The science of the inner workings of The Hive intrigued him to no end and he'd spent an inordinate amount time studying up on the subject. He had enjoyed every minute of his little excursion to the countryside, even if John had remained in the city with his family. Once back at Baker Street, he'd grabbed a sandwich from Mrs. Hudson and taken a short nap. Now all he needed was a captive audience to bask in his glory as he regaled them with... _hmmm, what would John call this one?_ he wondered. _Something boring like The Bee's Knees._ He shook his head. _Ah, Royal Jelly-see. That's much cleverer... take that John Watson! I can be creative too._ He laughed as he walked into St. Barts.

* * *

Molly Hooper, on the other hand, _wasn't_ in a good mood. No, not at all. It was the end of a fourteen hour shift, during which she'd completed six autopsies and mountains of paperwork. She was exhausted. So exhausted in fact that she was just praying that she could make it through the next thirty minutes without vomiting, which she had a tendency to do when extremely tired. Knowing if she sat down that she'd most likely doze off, Molly popped in her ear buds and busied herself with cleaning the lab benches in the back of the Path Lab. It was late, nearly midnight, and she wasn't expecting to see anyone. Unfortunately...

Sherlock walked into the lab and saw his favorite pathologist cleaning like her life depended on it. She had her back to him and he saw the white cord of her ear buds hanging down. He suddenly had a marvelous idea. As quietly as he could (which was pretty damn quietly as he prided himself on his stealth) he began sneaking up on the young woman. Making his way towards her, he considered exactly what he'd do once he go there. He could grab her shoulders or shout or both... _yes_ , he thought. _That would scare her_. As he got closer he realised that she wasn't wearing her lab coat but rather a white jumper. An easy mistake to make as he had only seen the top half of her when he'd first walked in. Suddenly a little devil whispered a suggestion in his ear. He had to stop himself from giggling. He was really enjoying his jovial mood.

Just before he reached her she put down the cloth she that was cleaning with and wiped her hands on her trousers, bending slightly in the process. Sherlock took the opportunity to grab her around the waist... goosing her.

Molly screamed and jumped more than a foot in the air. She swiftly turned to face the detective, but before she recognized him she managed to get her tiny hands around his neck and tighten them for a split second. Sherlock had adjusted his hold and was now practically embracing her around the middle. Finally, she loosened her grip, but didn't let go. She pulled him closer and buried her face in his chest, breathing heavily.

Sherlock couldn't control his laughter. He also couldn't find a reason to object to their rather intimate position. Molly was warm and soft. She also smelled delightfully of strawberries and vanilla, and he could tell that she'd showered recently. He knew she would occasionally utilize the staff showers if she had a particularly nasty postmortem, which was clearly the case today. He shook as he laughed and tightened his hold on the woman until he felt moisture soaking through his shirt.

He gently removed the buds from her ears. "Molly?" he asked trying to pull back, but she wouldn't move an inch. "Why are you crying?"

She shook her head. Her denial was absurd since he could actually feel her tears. "I'm not. It's j-just... ahh... y-you..."

Sherlock stroked his hand down her back and brushed his lips against the top of her head. "I just meant to startle you. I'm sorry, I suppose I shouldn't have done that."

* * *

Molly was mortified. Dear God was she actually holding Sherlock? She sniffled, then jerked away from him. Turning around she fished a tissue out of her pocket. "No, you shouldn't have," she said as she wiped her eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong? You're not this upset because of a fright."

She huffed. "Oh, sure. Deduce me now that I've humiliated myself. This day just keeps getting better."

"You've had a bad day?"

She turned back around. "I've had a _long_ day, Sherlock. Okay. And it's nearly over. So..." She looked at his shirt. "Ah, s-sorry about... _weeping_ on you."

He waved his hand. "Sod my shirt, Molly. Come here." He held his arms out to her.

"What?"

"You heard me. Get over here. I wasn't finished holding you." He gave her a cheeky grin.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why would you want to hold me?"

"You want the whole list?"

She thought for a moment. "There's a list?"

He nodded.

"Then, yes. List please."

He cleared his throat. "Fine. First of all, you've had a bad day- a long day, sorry, and could use a hug. This may surprise you, Molly but I _do_ know how to behave when a friend is distressed. Secondly, I frightened you. So your discomfort is at least, in part, my fault. I'd like to remedy that. Thirdly," He paused then added, "Ilikehowyousmellandhowyoufeelinmyarems."

Molly shook her head in astonishment. "Wait, what... was that last one?"

He rolled his eyes. " _I said_ : I like how you smell and how you feel in my arms." He turned his head away and looked across the lab, casually.

"Oh. O...kay." She stood frozen looking at the awkward man in front of her. "So, now?"

He looked at her again. "Yes, of course!" he said in an exasperated tone.

She huffed and walked back to him. Now standing less than a foot apart, she didn't quite know what to do. The first embrace had been spontaneous; a fear response. Did she put her arms back around his neck or perhaps... Her thoughts were cut off by Sherlock grabbing around the waist and pulling her into his body.

"There, that's more like it." He rested his head against the top of hers. "I like this." He sighed.

Molly's hands were trapped between their bodies, which was fine, she really didn't know what to do with them anyway. They stayed that way for several minutes. She could feel his heartbeat, which had be rapid when they'd first embraced, but was now slowing down to normal. It felt... nice to be held, to be comforted. Though she still didn't quite understand what was going on. He liked how she smelled and how she felt in his arms? What the hell did that mean in _Sherlock speak_? Unless...

"Sherlock?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Ah, I'm not upset anymore," Molly said gently pushing against the detective's chest.

"I'm glad," he said in response, though he didn't move much, just adjusted his hold, getting more comfortable.

"So, you can let go of me now."

"Could, yes. If I wanted to."

"You don't?"

Sherlock lowered his head until his mouth was right next to her ear. "Not particularly, no," he whispered.

She swallowed. His breath in her ear was causing all sorts of feelings to crop back up. Feelings that Molly was certain she'd completely dealt with. She was trying to calm her racing thoughts when she felt the first kiss land on her neck. "Sh-Sherlock?" Then another, feather-light and absolutely lovely.

"Yes?"

"I, ah, I need to ask you a qu-question." She pushed back and looked up into his eyes. His dilated pupils, coupled with his oddly playful behaviour and now the kissing... Molly was beyond suspicious.

"I've taken nothing, Molly. I'm just having a _very_ good day and finally realised, while I was holding you, that I didn't really want to let go." He licked his lips as his eyes darted over her face. "If you object, I fully understand. Things have... changed between us. Perhaps irrevocably. But I'd like a chance..." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Is there any way we could possibly make this a permanent arrangement?" He grinned like a schoolboy when he finished.

Molly couldn't help but smile, he seemed so proud of himself. She soothed her hands up over his chest then linked them behind his neck. "We'd never get anything done, Sherlock. And people would talk. Us standing around holding each other all the time," she teased.

"Hmmm, that is a problem, Doctor. Suggestions?" He lowered his head once again, kissing her on the corner of her mouth.

"Ah, you could take me some place more... private. Less chance of becoming fodder for gossip. And perhaps if you hold me for a while, you'll get it out of your system. Then you can get back to your busy life." She giggled.

Sherlock studied her for a moment before pressing his lips to hers. Molly instantly lost herself in kiss. His lips were soft and warm. They caressed and teased. Soon his tongue snaked its way between her lips and she found herself moaning against it.

Breaking the kiss Sherlock said, "I'm afraid, Molly, that I will never be able to get you out of my system." He kissed her temple. "Now, your shift is over and I'd like to take you home, put you to bed and continue this _holding_ thing we've started."

Molly couldn't find a single reason to object to his plan.

She'd never so been pleased to be scared half to death, in her entire life.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think. More Prompts to come. ~Lil~_


	2. Poodle Misses The Point

_**anonymous said:** John and Mary helping Sherlock patch up his relationship with Molly._

 _I don't think Nonny meant this as a full prompt, but this little thing happened anyway. It's unbeta'ed, so forgive any mistakes. This one's rated **K+** for a very brief mention of sex. I own nothing (except the nickname Poodle ; ) ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-Poodle Misses The Point-**

"I don't understand what I did wrong?" Sherlock whined, rolling into a ball and facing away from his friends.

John and Mary rolled their eyes in unison.

"I was trying to be a good boyfriend," he mumbled.

Mary sat down on the edge of the sofa and stroked Sherlock's hair. "Listen Poodle…"

"I told you not to call me that!" the pouting detective snapped, glaring at Mary over his shoulder.

"Sorry. You're definition of a good boyfriend and Molly's seem to be a bit different."

"Yeah mate, I'm not sure that Molly's the type of woman who appreciates such highhandedness."

Sherlock turned back around so fast he nearly knocked Mary over. Fortunately, Mary hadn't lost any of her cat-like reflexes and managed to jump up before tumbling onto the floor.

"Is wanting my girlfriend, the woman I love, to be safe and protected really highhanded?"

John shook his head. "No, it's no. But I think the bars on her windows were a bit much. Especially since she lives on the sixth floor."

"She couldn't get into her flat, Sherlock," Mary added sitting back down next to the man-child.

"The access code is simple," Sherlock argued.

"Okay fine. What is it?" Mary asked.

Sherlock looked for a moment as if he wasn't sure that he could trust her, then finally explained, "You simply take the eight digit numerical equivalent of the date we met, our first date and the first time we made love and add them together. Then you subtract the current date from that number. It's a revolving pass-code. Harder to hack."

John and Mary could only stare at their friend.

"What?!" Sherlock exclaimed.

Mary shook out of her stupor first. "Spill it, Sherlock. What's got you extra… _you-ish_ about this security situation?"

He looked away, refusing to make contact with the former assassin. _Oh, no he didn't,_ she thought. Trying to hide something from Mary Watson was not only a huge mistake, but also wildly ambitious. " _Sherlock._.." she scolded.

"Fine! Molly's pregnant! Are you happy? She didn't want me to tell anyone and now I've told TWO people. As if she wasn't angry enough already." He buried his face in his hands.

The Watsons sat in stunned silence for several minutes. Finally John spoke up, "And why, may I ask, is she not moving into Baker Street?"

Sherlock jerked his head up. "She refuses! Stubborn woman! I've asked and asked." He pulled at his hair. "I even proposed! With a ring and everything!"

" _After_ you found out that she was pregnant, I presume?" Mary asked.

"Yes," he answered with a confused look on his face.

"Oh Poodle. She thinks you only want these things because of the baby."

"That's preposterous!"

"No, not really. Did you two ever talk about marriage or living together _before_ she got pregnant?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"Well there you go. She's hurt. She thinks you're just trying to do the right thing." Mary stood up. "Come on, get up and go talk to her. Explain the real reasons you want to marry her."

The detective wasted no time. Standing up quickly he donned his coat then ran to the door. He was half way out when he changed his mind and dashed back into the room. "Thank you… both." He kissed Mary on the cheek then firmly grasped John's shoulder and smiled brightly. "You think she'll believe me?"

"Of course she will, mate. No doubt." John smiled.

Sherlock left with a skip in his step.

John turned to his wife. "I assume you're going to call Molly and explain everything?"

Mary sighed as she picked up her mobile. "Already dialing, love."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it. If you did... let me know (or even if you didn't, I can take it... I think..?). ~Lil~_


	3. Molly Hooper: Prize Fighter

_SammyKatz asked: How about Irene and/or Janine attempt an attack on Molly or someone she cares for. Molly kicks butt and maybe breaks a few of their bones._

 _All right, Sammy. Here you go, hope you like it. MizJoely looked this over for me. But I own nothing. It's rated **T** for saucy talk._

* * *

 **-Molly Hooper: Prize Fighter-**

"I don't understand," John said as he dabbed alcohol on Molly's knuckles.

Sherlock, who was pacing the length of 221B like he was preparing for a walk-a-thon, finally paused long enough to say, "Do you ever tire of saying that, John?"

"No, I'll explain," Molly said, then hissed in pain.

Sherlock flinched as he watched his best friend tend a particularly deep scrape on Molly's flesh.

She directed her explanation to Sherlock. "I was having drinks with Meena at Flannagan's, you know, just around the corner from my flat. And suddenly Janine comes up to me. I didn't recognize her at first." She looked at John. "Did you know she's blonde now?" The doctor shakes his head. "Anyway, she just starts in about Sherlock and all that... _business_." She darts her eyes up to the detective then turned back to John. "I felt bad, of course, he was a right arse, ya know." John nodded his head. "But she wouldn't stop. She went on and on about trying to start things back up and him turning her down. I just couldn't figure it out. I mean what does that have to do with me? Did I get drunk and belligerent when he placed his coffee order rather than answering me when I asked him out?" She looked off in the distance for a moment. "Admittedly not the same situation, but still. I've been on the receiving end of his fake flirtations plenty of times, thank you very much. I tried explaining this to her, but it just seemed to enrage her!"

Sherlock looked away then began chewing on his thumbnail.

"She was clearly pissed, but finally I'd had enough and asked her what any of this had to do with me. Then she starts saying the most unbelievable things."

"Like what?" John asked as he put a plaster on Molly's hand.

"That's not the interesting part, John. Get to why you were nearly taken into custody, Molly," Sherlock demanded.

"Well, I was getting to that. But to answer your question," she said looking back to the doctor. "She said that Sherlock..."

"Molly, you look unwell. Perhaps we should get the story tomorrow, after you've rested up," Sherlock interrupted.

"Sherlock, for shit's sake will you shut up and let Molly explain what happened."

The pathologist drew a deep breath, clearly frazzled, but finally continued, "As I was saying, she said the whole time she and Sherlock were... _together_ , that he'd, well," Molly looked from John to Sherlock. "She said that you would talk in your sleep. Talk to me- about me." She stood up and walked closer to the man. "Is that true?"

Sherlock swallowed then he cast his eyes to the ceiling and closed them. "She may have mentioned it... yes, " he mumbled.

Molly smiled for a moment. "Mmmm. Isn't that interesting?" Then whirled back around to face the smirking doctor on the settee. "Then Meena said, ' _Well of course he did. He's fucking in love with her you cow!'_ Next thing I knew, Janine was on top of my best friend, pulling her hair with one hand and slapping her senseless with the other. I pulled that bleach-blonde bully off of her and punched her, like... a lot. I really didn't know I had it in me." The men stared in shock. "What? She was hurting my friend." Neither of the men spoke, just kept staring. "Don't look at me like that, John. You've killed for Sherlock." She turned to face the detective. "You either. You've done the same!" She planted her damaged hands on her hips looking back and forth between the men. "What?!"

Sherlock never took his eyes off of the young woman but said, "John, would you mind..?"

The former army doctor stood up and quickly grabbed his coat. "See ya, Molls." He dashed out the door.

Molly shook her head as she watched the man leave, sprint actually, out the of the flat. "What the hell?" When she turned back around Sherlock was right next to her. "Oh, Sher..."

"Molly Hooper," he interrupted once again. "What am I going to do with you?" His voice was lower than normal.

She smiled as the realisation dawned on her. "Well, I don't know. What exactly were you talking about while you were _sleeping_?"

Sherlock licked his lips. "Oh so many things..." He placed his hands on her hips. "But the gist of it is that you and I should be having quite a lot of sex."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Like you and Janine?"

Sherlock sobered. "No. I didn't... we never..." He shook his head. "Nothing like that. I could never fake anything with you, Molly. Besides, I've seen the damage you can inflict. You're a bit terrifying."

"Good. So long as we're clear..."

"Crystal." He lowered his head and gently kissed her. "Bedroom?"

"Good God, Sherlock. Took you long enough." Molly turned to walk down the hall.

Sherlock followed closely behind. "Yes, well..."

"All it took was a girl fight to get your juices flowing, who knew?"

"Ah, my juices have been flowing for quite some time, Molly."

She paused right outside his door and turned to face him. "Well then, what was it?"

"I just couldn't fight it anymore. You won two fights tonight, Molly. Congratulations." He smirked.

She giggled. "Come on, I want my prize." She pulled him into the room and shut the door.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you! ~Lil~_


	4. Even A Little Death Would Do

_ohmyolicity said: Hum, hello! I dunno if you take prompt, but if you do, I have this one : Molly as a demon and Sherlock as an angel. Their master gave them one duty. Kill each other. Eventually a "smutty" ending, but feel you free to do what you want :) thank you!_

 _Okay, so I changed it a little. Hope you like it and thank you so much for the prompt._

 _This one is rated **M**. And a BIG thanks to MizJoely for getting it back so quickly. You are the best!_

 _I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-Even A Little Death Would Do-**

Their assignments came in almost simultaneously.

Though no one else knew that Molly Hooper was no mere pathologist, but actually an angel exiled to earth for the crime of wanting to know _too much_ , her good friend Sherlock Holmes did. And the same was the case with his true identity; a demon in deep cover playing the long game. What that game actually was he hadn't been told. He didn't like not knowing. Sherlock's 'brother' knew, Mycroft a fellow demon of a much higher rank and, of course, no relation to him whatsoever. But the bureaucrat refused to give him any clues. All Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, could do was continue with the life he'd made, and wait.

Though they were aware of each other's secret, they rarely spoke of it and even though they never admitted it out loud, it comforted them both to share their burden with another living... _soul._ Molly had been there for Sherlock in some of his darkest hours, and that's saying something for a demon, though he'd gotten used to this _human_ existence. And as for Molly, she found Earth a much more pleasant and exhilarating experience than what she remembered of Home. She knew that could be mostly attributed to her friend, the detective.

She was sitting on his sofa flipping through cold case files as Sherlock set up yet another experiment in his kitchen when her mobile dinged, followed almost immediately by his. Molly pulled hers out first. She read the text three times, just to make sure. It had been years since she'd even been contacted by anyone from Home, and now... this? By the time she was finished Sherlock was standing in front of her, mobile in hand.

"What does yours say, exactly?" he asked.

She could barely think, let alone speak. Never in her entire span of existence had she been asked to do something like this. Her job had been a care-giver; to provide comfort and acclimatization to new arrivals. The words alone frightened her beyond imagination.

"Ah, it says: You must be the cause of his death." She finally looked up and met his eyes.

He nodded. "Yes, it means me."

"You got one too?"

"Indeed. Mine says: Her death must be by your hand alone," he explained.

Silence descended upon the flat as the long-time friends considered the weight of the words they each had just spoken. Molly had never taken a life, nor did she wish to, let alone that of her closest friend and, quite frankly, despite the fact that he was a demon from the Pits of Hell, the love of her life. And even though Sherlock wasn't altogether unfamiliar the act of killing since his placement on Earth he hadn't taken one life unless they absolutely deserved that life to end. Molly Hooper, angel, certainly didn't fall into that category.

Suddenly Sherlock had an idea. He smiled and paced across the room, facing away from his friend. _It can't be that simple,_ he thought. But then again, he'd helped Mycroft find loopholes in Demon Law on many occasions. It was almost pathetic how easy it actually was. Angel Law was surely just as flawed. He took a deep breath before turning back to the angel on his sofa.

"Molly," he said as he approached. "We have to have sex."

Instead of needing it explained or stuttering out a response, Molly simply brightened and said, "Yes, of course! That's brilliant!"

* * *

It was all in the wording. _Death_. But the messages didn't say what kind of death. _La petite mort_. Even a little death would do.

These bloody fools didn't know who they were dealing with. He was Sherlock fucking Holmes and he wouldn't be tossed on earth for several years, put in the path of an innocent angel, only to fall ridiculously in love with her then be told to kill her or allow himself to be killed by her. No. In his experience there was a loophole to just about every situation.

Oh, and what a lovely loophole he had just found. His and Molly's clothes vanished the moment he carried her into his bedroom; no further conversation was necessary. She didn't argue. She didn't ask questions. He lay her down upon his bed and hovered over her body, not daring to touch her just yet. Even he recognized that this moment had importance, a great deal actually.

He had seen many naked demons and humans in his existence. But none of that prepared him for Molly's body laid out in front of him. This was an opportunity he thought he'd never be granted and his eyes couldn't take in enough of her at once. She was magnificent.

Though they'd been friends for years and he'd never actually allowed himself to consider her as a romantic partner. Why would an angel, not only an angel but this perfectly beautiful creature allow something as tainted and corrupted as him to enter the temple of her body?

She wouldn't. And he wouldn't allow it either. But now it seemed their only salvation. So he'd take what she offered him, greedily. He was completely overwhelmed by his emotions as he looked down into her lovely brown eyes. Eyes he'd dreamed about on the rare occasions that he had slept. It was always Molly who followed him in sleep, though she was never there when he woke and he was left bereft and aching.

"I'm going to touch you now," he whispered.

"Please," she begged causing his chest to clench and his cock to twitch.

He placed his hand over her heart, a thing he desperately wished could be his, not just for this moment but for eternity. As he did Molly gasped and her body shuddered. "You okay?"

"Just don't stop."

As if he would.

* * *

Molly had never had sex before. Once sent Down she had been focused on starting a life, obtaining a job and trying to adjust to the humanity that surrounded her. She knew very little of human interaction other than what she had learned from the new arrivals she'd worked with back Home. Dating a human seemed dangerous; letting a human that close would mean lying and lying some more. So she kept to herself, making friends but keeping them at arm's length. That is until Sherlock Holmes walked into her morgue and started beating up dead bodies. She knew. And he knew as well. Finding someone with whom she could share her secret was both a relief and somewhat terrifying. It took a couple of months before any kind of friendship formed but once it did Molly realised what she'd been missing, and she relished every moment with the moody demon.

She hadn't planned on falling in love with him, though it wasn't surprising in the least. He was bloody gorgeous. Those eyes, that seemed to be a least five colours at once, painfully sharp cheekbones and Lord help her _that hair_. Now, as his naked body lay above hers she had the whole picture and it was marvelous. If he didn't do something soon she'd explode.

Finally he started touching her and her body felt like a live wire. She begged him not to stop and he just smiled, one of his cocky, knowing smiles that made her want to lick every inch of him. Then he lowered his head and began kissing her neck. If his hands felt wonderful, there weren't words for those lips. She managed to bring her hands up and lightly touch his back and she heard him moan. _I did that_ , she thought. Although the thought was almost silly since she'd seen his erection the moment his clothing had disappeared.

She suddenly felt his large hand touching her breast, then rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. _Oh, nothing should feel this good._ She said something to that effect, causing Sherlock to chuckle as he raised up and looked her in the eyes. Finally taking the initiative, Molly threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him down for a kiss, needing to feel his lips on hers.

Sherlock immediately took control, nibbling her lips until she opened for him as he slid his tongue into mouth. Molly lost any semblance of decency as she started wantonly grinding her core into his erection in desperate need for release. He broke the kiss, panting, and looked into her eyes for a moment before finding her breast once again. Moving off to the side a bit, his hand traveled down her body until it reached her centre, causing her breath to hitch.

Looking up he said, "Ready?"

She nodded, biting her lip. Then she felt his fingers parting her labia. She screwed her eyes shut, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"Molly, look at me. Please, look at me when you come."

Opening her eyes was almost painful. Knowing that Sherlock was only doing what he had to to save both their lives, she felt tears gathering in her eyes as his fingers breached her entrance. They started spilling as he filled her to the limits of what her body could take.

"Oh fuck, Molly. You're a virgin?" He started to pull out but she put her hand on him to stop him. "I'm hurting you!"

"You're not. Not like that," she explained. "Please don't stop, Sherlock. It feels good." More tears fell.

He leaned up, never removing his hand, and kissed her cheeks. "Don't cry, my angel. It'll be over soon. I'm sorry, but I cannot kill you."

His kind words caused her heart to swell and hurt at the same time.

He started moving his hand, slowly, gently. But it wasn't enough until he added his thumb to her clitoris and Molly's hips jerked forward. "You like that? Hmmm?" He kissed her neck, then licked and bit her skin above her pulse point.

Molly dug her nails into his scalp as she moved with his hand. "Oh-oh-oh... God!"

"Fucking hell, Molly you're so beautiful," Sherlock whispered in her ear. "Come for me. Look at me and come," he pleaded as he fucked her with his hand.

"Sherlock... I'm... Oh GOD!" Molly shrieked as her body convulsed. She'd never experienced anything like it before. It was perfect.

He kissed her chest and neck, her cheeks and chin. "Gorgeous, Molly. Perfect. Death by my hand."

"Right, yes. Well done... you," she replied in a breathless whisper.

Sherlock positioned himself above her. "I'm so sorry but this next part... it _will_ hurt."

"Less than having to kill you, I imagine." She smiled.

His eyes were soft, softer than she'd ever seen. "I'm sorry that it's me. That I'm your..."

"I'm not," she interrupted.

He actually gasped but seemed to recover quickly from his shock, then took himself in hand and eased himself in slowly. Molly closed her eyes as she felt herself being filled by this... man? this... demon? no, he was Sherlock. Right at that moment he was only Sherlock and she was just Molly.

* * *

He was completely overwhelmed by her. Not just her tight heat, but her willingness to give this to him rather than kill him. Frankly he'd have let her. In a heartbeat he'd have given his life (if you could call it a life) for hers. But he knew Molly well enough to know that taking a life would have virtually ended hers. She would have never survived the guilt. The ridiculous bureaucracy of Heaven and Hell and their orders! _Why_? Why did either of them need to die? He started to think about it, then he heard her call out to him and realised he hadn't fully entered her yet. He refocused his attention on the angel beneath him rather than the idiocy of their superiors.

One more deep thrust and her virginity was gone. She cried out in pain and gripped his shoulders tightly.

"Are you okay? Can you continue?" he asked.

She nodded in response and he began to thrust in earnest. He was close as soon as he started once again. Everything about Molly made him want to spill his pointless seed. But he wanted to take her with him. This was a one-time opportunity and he needed to make the most of it. He slid his hand between their bodies to stimulate her clit and Molly called out to him as her inner muscles started to shudder around his cock. He bit down hard onto her collar bone, anything to halt his orgasm as Molly began tightening more than he thought possible. He finally gave up, allowing himself to experience every single sensation his body would allow. His mind blanked out and for just a moment he felt as if he had a soul once again. It was there, he could see it, touch it, feel it. He remembered what it meant to be whole and complete. It was loving this beautiful creature, it was being loved by her. As unattainable as that was, for those few seconds, he felt it... it was utterly transcendent. When he came back to himself he found that he had all but collapsed on top of her. He quickly moved to the side, and rolled onto his back.

After a few minutes of recovery he asked. "Um, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Great, actually."

"Good, that's... good."

Molly got up and went to the bathroom and he heard his shower start up. He quickly changed the sheets while she was gone. He wanted her to stay. They needed to see how their trick played out with the powers-that-be.

"Oh, I would've have helped with that," she said as she walked back in wearing just a towel.

"It's no trouble, Molly." He returned the pillows and went to his drawers. "Stay. Please. It's late and we should be together in case there are further... instructions." He pulled out a pair of pajamas.

Molly nodded. "That's probably a good idea." She took the clothes from him.

As he walked up to her he couldn't help the feeling of melancholy that had overtaken him. He'd retrieved his own sleep clothes and would stay on the sofa. He allowed himself to gently touch her cheek. "Sleep well, Molly Hooper." The he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Night Sherlock."

He walked out of his room without looking back.

* * *

It had been over an hour since he'd left Molly and since he was in no need of sleep he decided on committing the events of the evening to a special room in his mind palace. He was nearly finished when he heard the heavy footfalls of his 'brother' on the stairs outside his flat door. The demon didn't knock, just entered.

"Well this is an unpleasant surprise," Sherlock said, not looking up.

Mycroft crossed the room and sat down in front of the detective. "Evening Sherlock."

He finally looked at his _boss_. As usual, could read nothing on the demon other than the fact that he'd just eaten an enormous amount of cake.

"You've been Topside for over ten years now. Other than tracking down the occasional rogue demon, we've asked nothing of you. Then finally you're given a task, an important one and you fail, miserably and deliberately. Why?"

 _Rogue demons?_ The scum that he'd been forced to deal with were a bit worse than _rogue_. Sherlock considered not answering, but knew it was pointless. "Since when is killing defenseless angels considered such an important task?"

"It was a test, Sherlock. For the both of you. And you both failed."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "A test? What the Devil for?"

Mycroft leaned back. "It's quite simple actually. Miss Hooper would have been welcomed back Up with open arms if she'd been able to take care of a demon. They were kind in assigning her a seemingly docile one such as yourself. Or if you'd succeeded in something so ruthless as killing someone you... _love_ ," he said the word as if it nearly stuck in his throat, "you would have been promoted to a higher station. No more chasing petty demons. No more dealing with the riffraff of this world. We've had our eye on you, Sherlock. You have potential. But unfortunately, something keeps getting in your way."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And what's that?" he sneered.

"Your soul. It's not content with being absent from your body." The older demon leaned forward. "It's gotten progressively worse since that angel entered your life. We tried to separate the two of you. Moriarty. Magussen. Even John Watson was an attempt to drive a wedge between you. But you always came back together. So I spoke with her superior and we brokered a deal."

"It didn't work."

"Clearly. Though demons far above me had hoped that you'd choose to make the kill, I knew you wouldn't. You found the loophole, just as I predicted. The only question I had was, would you taint that pure soul with your seed or... your death?" He picked up his umbrella and stood. "Now I have my answer."

Sherlock stood up. "What happens to her?"

"Not you? Not worried as to what your future holds, little brother?"

Sherlock blanched; he hated it when the demon called him that. "No, I need to know that she'll be safe."

Mycroft smiled, an almost genuine smile, Sherlock couldn't remember ever seeing one on him before. "You're both free, my young friend. We have no use for a demon who can't be controlled. A demon who loves. A demon with... a soul. And as for Molly, she's been made human as well. She's been tainted, she won't be allowed back, as least not as an angel. She'll have to earn it, like everyone else." Mycroft turned to leave.

Sherlock couldn't believe what he'd just heard. It couldn't be that simple. "Are you saying..?"

Turning back to the young _man_ Mycroft said _,_ "Yes. It's already happened. It's done. Goodbye, Sherlock. Perhaps we'll meet again." Then he walked out the door.

Sherlock stood perfectly still, completely stunned for nearly a minute. Then he broke and ran into his bedroom to tell Molly, his angel, the news. He had an important question to ask her...

* * *

 _Okay, my first attempt at angel/demon!Lock. Hope you liked it. Please let me know. Thanks for reading. ~Lil~_


	5. A Golden Jubilee

_From MrsMCrieff: Here's a prompt for you Lil, it's Mr and Mrs Holmes' 50th Wedding Anniversary and they're hosting a summer garden party to celebrate. Sherlock and Mycroft are under the cosh to bring a plus one. Sherlock's is Molly, I'm happy for you to pick Mycroft's. MrsM xxx_

 _She meant to add the request for smutty times on the prompt (I'm not making that up... I can show you the Facebook messages!) So here it is! There MAY be a surprise guest in attendance at the party... I'm just sayin'. *Hey Mrs, there is at least ONE (perhaps 2) Easter Eggs... let's see if you can find 'em!*_

 _The lovely and eternally patient MizJoely beta'd this for me. She a treasure!_

 _This one was supposed to be 'smut lite', but according to Miz I failed miserable at that. So let's call this a strong... **M.** (She's not even a little wrong!)_

 _I own nothing. Okay... that might not be entirely true... hmmmm. Enjoy. ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-A Golden Jubilee-**

Sherlock oscillated on the well worn tile floor outside the path lab, watching as Molly carefully examined cells under her microscope. He wasn't accustomed to nerves. This was a very unfamiliar feeling. Finally, after about five minutes, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Ah Molly! What are you working on today?" he asked with faked enthusiasm.

"Hi Sherlock. Just some routine blood work for Dr. Smithson. Your station's free." She tilted her head toward the empty spot designated as 'his'.

"Well actually, I need to ask you something." He smiled, or tried to.

She stopped what she was doing and gave him her full attention. "Sure, what's going on?"

"My parents are having a, ah, party. An anniversary party... thing. Their 50th to be exact." He drug his nail along a scratch on the table top. It was fascinating, that scratch. "And Mummy has asked that we, Mycroft and I, not get them gifts. Nothing. Only that we bring..." He finally looked her into the eyes once again and swallowed. "Dates."

Molly thinned her lips and stared at the man. "O-kay."

"Right. So, I'm asking... you. That is I'm asking you to be my... date."

"Um..."

"She was quite specific. It has to be a _real_ date. A person I'd date, if I did that sort of thing- which I most certainly do not."

The pathologist continued to stare for several moments. "And I'm a person that you'd date, _if_ you... dated?"

"I believe I just said that, Molly." He clasped his hands behind his back. "So, it's Saturday evening. A garden party. The dress code is casual. The blue floral number paired with your white cardigan should do. And wear flats. You have enough problems on lino in anything with a heel. Their garden will surely prove deadly if you attempt anything higher. I'll pick you up at seven." He started to leave then remembered something. He added, "Thank you," then continued on his way. He only allowed himself a relieved sigh once he was halfway down the hall.

* * *

They arrived, after an uncomfortably quiet hour-long ride in the back of a government car, at Sherlock's parent's house. Molly was terribly nervous. It hadn't helped one bit that Sherlock had played with his mobile and completely ignored her during the entire trip. But now they were walking through groups of people, Sherlock a few steps ahead of her.

Finally he turned to her. "Okay. There's Mummy. Act natural."

"How else would I act?" Molly asked, a bit bewildered.

"Mmmm."

"Oh Sherlock, you brought her!" the woman exclaimed as she approached. "Don't you look dashing?" She hugged him tightly.

Molly giggled at the exchange.

"Of course I did, Mummy. I told you I would." He pulled back. "This is Dr. Molly Hooper."

"She's adorable!" Mrs. Holmes said as she looked Molly over. She took both of Molly's hands. "Thank you so much for coming." She hugged her just as tightly as she had her own son.

"Oh!" Molly said, completely taken by surprise. "It's my pleasure."

"Mummy, let her breathe."

Mrs. Holmes released the woman. "Father!" she yelled as she turned.

Sherlock gave Molly an apologetic look, then shocked the life out of her by taking her hand in his as his father approached.

"Look, Sherlock brought her! He brought Molly!" Mrs. Holmes exclaimed.

His dad smiled brightly. "The famous Molly Hooper. I am honored." He took Molly's other hand and kissed the back of it.

"Um..." She giggled nervously. "F-famous?"

"Oh yes dear, we've been hearing about you for years," the older man explained.

Molly didn't quite know what to do with this information. But Sherlock tightened his grip on her hand and changed the subject. "Is he here?" he asked his parents.

"You know he is, Sherlock," his mother answered with a roll of her eyes. _Well, now I know where he gets_ that, she thought.

"And?" was his impatient response as he dropped Molly's hand and shoved both his into his pockets.

"Oh, Sherlock. Of course he brought a date. As if he'd disappoint Mother or allow you to win." Mr. Holmes shook his head. "You boys and your competition." He looked at Molly then back to his son. "Good Heaven's Sherlock, your girl doesn't even have a cocktail!" He took her hand. "I promise I did _try_ to raise him right. Come on, what's your poison?"

Sherlock quickly intervened. "I'll take care of that, Dad." He put a hand on the small of Molly's back and directed her to the bar and away from his parents.

Once there he ordered himself a scotch on the rocks and Molly a Brandy Alexander, not surprising her in the least that he knew her favorite drink. "Listen Sherlock, what's going on? Why do your parents seem to know about me?" The bartender handed Molly her drink, which she gratefully took.

"Ah, well I've mentioned you, obviously." He took a large drink of the scotch that had just appeared at his elbow.

"Okay... why?"

Suddenly he gleefully exclaimed, "Look there's Mycroft!" Then he drained the rest of his drink. "Let's go torment him." He grabbed her hand, dragging her away.

* * *

Sherlock had never been so happy to see his big brother in his life. This night was getting completely out of hand. First of all, Molly hadn't worn the frumpy blue dress as he'd told her to. NO. She'd gone out and purchased a skimpy yellow thing. No doubt associating yellow as the traditional colour of the 50th anniversary, so sentimental, so Molly. He really should have seen that coming: yellow roses, golden anniversary.. _. God, she looks beautiful in yellow_. Not to mention she hadn't even worn a cardigan, leaving her soft pale skin far too exposed. _Cruel!_ The trip to his parents had been excruciating. He'd spent the entire time looking up photos of headless corpses just to keep from launching himself at the poor woman. And now, in the soft lighting of the party his control was slipping. It didn't help one bit that his parents were clearly in love with her, not that he blamed them, not one bit.

Oh yes, he was in trouble.

"Mykey!" he said as he walked up to the older man. "I see you've found the buffet."

Mycroft turned around, cocktail shrimp in hand. "Ahhh, Miss Hooper. What a surprise!" he said dripping with sarcasm, before taking a generous bite.

"And where has your lovely companion gotten off to?" Sherlock asked looking around.

"Powder room."

"Is she still on the clock or..?"

Mycroft laughed. "No, brother dear. Of that you can be certain."

Suddenly Sherlock felt a punch to his left arm. "Hey Sherly!"

"Lillian?"

"That's all I get? Shit, it's been fifteen years. Give us a hug." Sherlock suddenly found himself embraced by the buxom brunette.

"You were expecting someone else, weren't you?" Mycroft asked with a smile then popped a crudités in his mouth.

"Nobody likes a sore winner, Myke," the tall woman scolded. "Who's this little beauty?" she said looking at Molly.

"Ah, Molly. Molly Hooper," a dazed Sherlock answered.

Lillian shook Molly's hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lillian. Obviously. I've known the boys for years. Met them while they were staying at my hotel in the States." She leaned in. "There was a mystery, if you can believe it. Myke and I hit it off over our mutual love of all things breakfast." Then she cut her eyes to the bureaucrat.

Sherlock turned to Mycroft. "You flew her in just so you wouldn't have to get an _actual_ date?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't break any rules. If she lived here I'd have happily married Lillian, years ago."

"As if I'd have ya," Lillian commented. "You're lucky I have a very trusting husband. Come on, I need a drink. Also I promised to show your mom photos of my family." She pulled him away, then looked over her shoulder and said, "Nice to meet you Molly. You two have fun!" She winked as she walked away with a very smug Mycroft.

"That cheating bastard," Sherlock mumbled. "He picked someone he couldn't possibly date... or..." He stared after the pair.

"She seems... nice."

"Mmmm. Bit more of her now than the last time I saw her. At least two kids. Very happily married. Mycroft will pay for this. I assumed he'd bring Anthea." He continued to puzzle over his brother's treachery.

"Um, soooo... Back to my question..."

"Perhaps I could make him jealous. I could set Anthea up on a date. How does one do that, I wonder?"

"Sherlock?"

"Do I even know any single men? Oh yes! Grant! Perfect!" he exclaimed, now completely lost in his thoughts as he formed his plan. Time seemed to lose all meaning. Several minutes passed, how many he didn't know. He came out of his mind and looked around, but Molly was nowhere to be seen. _Oh bugger_ , he thought.

He asked both his parents and the Watsons, who had arrived a little late due to a babysitting issue, but no one had seen her. After a few minutes of searching he found her on the far side of the house, away from the party. She'd found a secluded spot, a gazebo actually. Sherlock cursed himself for not thinking of it immediately.

"Molly," he said as he approached. "Why'd you leave?"

She was sitting, her legs tucked under herself, looking off into the distance. "Why am I here Sherlock?" she asked, never looking at him even as he sat down next to her.

He immediately considered retreating, running back to the party and avoiding Molly _and_ her question altogether. But that wasn't fair, even he knew that. He sighed. "I told you..."

"I've heard your _explanation_. But," She turned and planted her feet on the ground half facing him. "I still don't understand why your parents seem to know all about me or..." She paused and bit at her lip. "What you said about how you'd date me, _if_ you dated? How was that supposed to make me feel, Sherlock? Really, we're back to lying and manipulating again?"

Sherlock lurched forward grabbing Molly's face in his large hands. "I wasn't lying, Molly." He licked his lips as he realised just how close they'd ended up.

She furrowed her brow. "Of course you were. You didn't want to disappoint your mother or risk showing up without a date and losing face in front of Mycroft," she said, her tone accusatory.

He shook his head. "No, you're wrong."

"Stop." She jerked her head back and faced forward once again. "You didn't mean it. You've told me what you think of me enough times. I know..."

"What Molly? The truth?"

She shook her head, refusing to look at him.

"Would you like to know?" he asked as he watched Molly bite her lip. He could tell she was a scared to find out, but he continued anyway. "Your hair..." He reached up and tucked a stray strand behind her ear. "...does look better parted on the side. Or as least I prefer it that way. Actually, I quite like it down, but that's not very practical while performing autopsies. And I _do_ like it when you wear lipstick." _I always think about kissing it off of you,_ he added in his mind _._ "Every compliment I've ever paid you, even if they seemed flippant or manipulative, were genuine."

Molly had turned and was staring at him with big, wet eyes. "And the insults?" she whispered.

"What insults?"

"My weight?"

"What...? Right. Those three pounds..."

"Two."

He smiled. "Had gone right to your bottom." He swallowed. "God I wanted to grab it. Touch it. I wanted him to _take his hands off of you,_ " he said through gritted teeth.

Molly's mouth was hanging open and she was breathing deeply. She stared at him a few moments longer, finally she spoke again, "And the party. My mouth and br-breasts?"

Sherlock closed his eyes. Just the mention of that regretful evening caused his chest to tighten. "I was feeling very conflicted that evening, Molly. Confused. The case..."

"That woman?"

"Well, yes, there was all of that. But then you came in and suddenly I was jealous again, just like with _him_. John and Lestrade, they were practically drooling. I didn't mean... What I said was horrible, and I didn't mean a word of it. You looked beautiful. And I should have told you so."

"Why have you kept this from me?"

He quickly shook his head, looking away from her. He scooted away from her, needing some distance between them before he did something they both regretted. "Because I can't. You're going to marry a nice boring dentist and move away. You'll have three children. Two cats and a dog." He was looking forward, but he felt Molly moving closer. "You will grow old and live a long and happy life. Without me. That's how this is supposed to go." He was trembling, he couldn't stop himself, couldn't control the emotions that had surfaced; they'd been building all evening.

"What if that's not what I want?" she asked.

"Tough."

Suddenly Molly placed herself on his lap, straddling his legs. " _Molly_ ," he warned.

"Shut up!" she said as she lowered her head. "I don't want those things."

"But you love cats."

She laughed.

He shook his head. "We can't have this." And even though he said it, he gripped her thighs tightly.

"Why not?" she asked as she threaded her fingers through his hair, causing him to purr.

 _Oh fuck_... he suddenly forgot all the reasons he'd come up with over the years. "Ahh, be-because I'm... me? Because I'm an addict?" he added quickly.

She sigh, rolled her eyes and smiled.

"My work, it's dangerous..."

"Why would that matter?" She kissed his neck.

His brain was short-circuiting but he still tried to fight. "I'll huuurt you. I'll f-forget things and stufffff. Oh God, Molly," he said in a breathy voice that he hardly recognized.

Molly giggled as she nibbled and licked his skin.

His tenuous control was all but gone, he had to stop this. "Molly, we can't." _Weak, very weak_ , he thought.

"We can, Sherlock," she whispered in his ear sending shivers down his spine. "And we will. I'm in love with you, you great idiot. And if I'm reading this correctly, you're in love with me too. Unless it's all just physical?" She pulled back to look him in the eyes.

He looked at her, so perfectly Molly with her big brown eyes, dimples he wanted to lick, and the cutest fucking nose he'd ever seen in his life. He'd been fighting this for so long he didn't even know why anymore. She was right, he was in love with her. Every bit of her. From her awful humor to her precision with a scalpel. Oh God, he'd surely mess this up... "Molly, I'm afraid."

She dragged her fingers through his hair then brought her hands to his cheeks. "Afraid of what, Sherlock?"

"Losing you."

"You just told me I was supposed to move away and have a house full of someone else's kids. What would you have done if that had happened?"

"Died a little." He answered without thinking, because he knew it was true. "But you would've been happy, I could have survived on that knowledge alone." He watched as a fat tear rolled down her flushed cheek.

"I don't want anyone else's babies Sherlock. If I can't have yours, I'll die in a house full of cats. I'll be found days later, after I've been nibbled on by my hungry pets."

He broke out in laughter. "That was horrible." Taking a deep breath he said, "God I love you." It felt so good to say it out loud, he had to say it again. "I do. I love you, Molly Hooper."

She didn't respond, just closed the distance and pressed her lips firmly against his. Sherlock wasted no time, pulling her even closer, needing to feel every inch of her body against his own. Angling her head, Molly never gave up control of the kiss, she licked his lips sweetly. He gladly opened his mouth as she slid her tongue in with a whimper.

The very idea that he was sitting underneath his mother's gazebo, at his parent's anniversary party, never crossed his mind as he moved his hands to Molly's ass.. and squeezed. The only thought on Sherlock's mind was, _Finally_.

She broke the kiss with a giggle then kissed her way across his cheek until her sweet lips found his earlobe and she sucked it into her mouth. He thought the moment couldn't get any better until he felt Molly palming his erection through his dress trousers. As he thrust up into her small hand he found himself wanting- needing- more of her. The strappy dress soon made his dream a reality as he fumbled with the zipper. He pushed one strap off easily but couldn't manage the other as Molly hadn't let go of his length.

"A little help?" he whispered.

"Oh, sorry," was her breathy response as she finally removed her hand. Then he pushed the top of the dress down, exposing her strapless bra. No patience for actual removal, he simply shoved the garment further down on her waist and dove into her small but lovely breasts. Molly's soft cries and not so gentle treatment of his hair was all the encouragement he needed to know he was doing something right. She was clearly enjoying herself, but soon her hand returned to his cock and he found himself desperate for release.

Rucking up her skirt until he found her damp knickers he said, "Molly, your bag! Tell me there's a condom in there!" He worked until he'd moved them aside and got first one then two fingers inside her core. This unfortunately inhibited her ability to answer his _very_ important question. Frankly, he didn't much care, at least for a few moments.

Molly dug her nails into his shoulders so hard he could feel them through his suit jacket. "Oh God, Sherlock that feels amazing. God your hands!"

He pulled her toward him and kissed her as he felt her orgasm approaching, swallowing her cries, relishing each one.

As she came down from her high he kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her adorable fucking nose, then asked once again, "Molly, not trying to rush things, and if you're not ready I understand..."

"No, I didn't bring a condom," she managed as her breathing normalized.

Sherlock's heart sank. "Oh well, of course."

Then she looked at him with an absolute twinkle in her eye that had nothing to do with her post orgasmic glow. "You said, what, three children? Might as well get started." She raised a challenging eyebrow.

He swallowed. Then he tried to think of an argument, but really was in no fit state. "You're right, I did, didn't I?"

Molly hopped up and started removing her knickers. She looked up at him and said, "Well, come on. I assume you know how this works. Those need to come off," she said pointing to his lap. Her tone was teasing and light but it snapped Sherlock out of his shock.

Once he had his trousers and pants shoved down a bit, Molly wasted no time climbing back onto his lap and taking his length in hand. "Oh God, Molly. I- I... fuck!" Then suddenly he was enveloped Molly's warm welcoming heat.

He threw his head back and tried to catalog every sensation, but it was pointless, so he gave up and quite literally enjoyed the ride. Somehow he had the presence of mind to ask if her legs were okay, to which she laughed and kissed him enthusiastically in response. When she told him she was close and ordered him to come, he'd never been so quick to follow instructions in his life.

Though she hadn't thought to bring contraceptives she did have a handbag full of facial tissues. They cleaned up a bit before she crawled back into his lap, her legs draped across his.

"Your knees," he said as he looked down at the angry red marks forming.

"They're fine," she replied absently then she kissed his neck. "We have to head back. Surely they've missed us by mow. Also I need to use the loo."

* * *

Molly finished up in the downstairs bathroom and waited for Sherlock, who had dashed upstairs when they'd entered the house. As she came out she ran right into Mycroft's 'date'. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

The tall woman smiled then frowned. "Good Lord, I hope Sherly's in better shape than you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Sweetheart, if you're gonna have sex at your boyfriend's parent's anniversary party, remember to carry concealer. That," She pointed to Molly's neck. "is a little bit obvious."

Molly ran back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. "Oh God."

"It's okay. You're in luck." Lillian sat her large bag on the counter top. "Let's see, you're a LOT fairer than me, but I have some light concealer that I use under my eyes... hold on." She continued to search. "Oh, here we go." The American worked until the mark was barely visible. "And with the lighting out there no one will notice."

"Molly?" They heard Sherlock call out.

"She's in here, Curly Sue." Lillian answered.

"You're still here?" he asked the brunette.

"They haven't cut the cake yet, have they?" she said. "Don't be a brat, Sherlock. Also you owe me." She put away her make-up and slung her bag over her shoulder.

"Why, because you fixed Molly's love bite? Thank you, Lillian. You are invaluable, what would we've have done without..."

"Cut it, smartass!" she interrupted. "Love bite? It's a hickey. You people make everything sound so romantic. And while I'm at it, what's with replacing all your z's, sorry... _zed's_ with s's?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the woman. "You and my brother have been corresponding all these years."

"The occasional email. We stayed friends," she defended. "At any rate, I called your brother's PA." She looked at Molly and winked.

Sherlock beamed. "You're kidding? How?"

"I pick-pocketed his phone. A little trick he taught me fifteen years ago." The trio walked through the house. "Anyway, the two of them disappeared about twenty minutes ago. Soooo, you're welcome." She turned to the new couple. "Now, I'm going to run interference with your parents, don't be too long." Then she was gone.

Molly watched her go. "I like her. She's fun."

"Hmmm, she's obnoxious." He faced his new lover. "But you, you're amazing."

She giggled as he pinned her against his parents kitchen wall.

"This changes everything, you know?" Sherlock said.

"Yes, I do. Isn't it grand?"

* * *

 _Yep, I just wrote myself into a Sherlolly story. But it was all in good fun! Frankly, I blame MrsMCrieff, she said I could 'pick Mycroft's date'... ummm okay! "I volunteer!" (And I get to have a secret past with the British Government... *giggles*) I had intended to make myself his 'actual date', but even in fiction I can't cheat on Mr Lil (Wow... I really love that big doofus.)_

 _I'm ready... let me have it! Thanks so, so much for reading!~Lil~_


	6. A Little Inspiration

_Sweet-Sweet-Escape on tumblr asked: Molly sees Sherlock outside Barts handing money to a man who in turn gives him something that he slips into his pocket. Molly storms over to halt the assumed drug deal and to give the man and Sherlock a piece of her mind. Thanks Lil, can't wait to see what happens! Rating? Sky's the limit!_

 _Well Sweets, you got me started and this is where I went... Good Lord, I hope it's what you wanted. This one's rated_ _ **T**_ _for Molly's foul mouth (don't get her worked up... she'd gets cursey.) Sherlock is OCC in this one... quite a bit actually. (I make no apologizes ; )  
_

 _The lovely and talented MrsMCrieff beta'd and Brit-picked this as there is a lot of British-ness goin' on._

 _ **Warnings** : Talk of drugs and rehab. _

_I own nothing. Enjoy. ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-A Little Inspiration-**

Molly stepped out of the hospital and checked her messages before turning to walk down the pavement towards the Tube. She was expecting, well hoping, for a message or a text from Ted her date from last night. There hadn't exactly been fireworks, but she was staying positive. She was about two blocks from Barts when she spotted Sherlock Holmes, himself, _the great git_.

He'd been avoiding her since his overdose, four months prior and she couldn't say that she was surprised. Greg had been by, and so had John to 'gather' information about the bodies that had come in. Evidently he was still working with the Met. That actually gave Molly some measure of comfort, made things seem normal in the face of his utter fuckery. The fact that he was keeping away from Barts spoke volumes about how much he didn't want to face her wrath.

She was about to turn and walk the other direction when a tramp walked up to Sherlock and they started speaking to each other. After a few seconds the detective took some money out and handed it to him. The man then passed something small and white to Sherlock who immediately shoved the item into his pocket, without looking at it.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Molly said out loud. "That stupid son of a bitch." She marched toward the pair, who were still in deep conversation.

"Sherlock Holmes!" she bellowed as she approached.

He and his companion looked at her with wide eyes.

"Go, just go," Sherlock quickly instructed the homeless man.

But Molly grabbed the man by his elbow. "No! You'll stay right where you are." Oddly, the man complied. Since he didn't attempt to break free, she turned her attention back to Sherlock. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He smiled. _Completely fake_. She knew that smile all too well. "Ah, Molly. Don't you look..." His eyes scanned her face as the fake smile fell away. "...incredibly angry."

"You're damn right I'm angry. You're caught! Red-handed, _actually red-handed!_ I can't believe this. John said you were doing so well. I knew less than a month in rehab wasn't enough! Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?" Her grip on the stranger tightened.

"You're hurtin' me miss..."

She looked at him. "Oh shut up!"

"Molly, I assure you..."

"Oh let me guess, it's not what it looks like? Oh for Christ's sake, Sherlock, I just saw the whole thing!" She stepped closer pulling the man with her. "I know you think the rest of us are a bunch of morons, but I can _observe_ too!"

"Mr. 'Olmes?" the tramp whined.

"Molly, let Billy go. I'm afraid you're scaring him."

"Yeah, and hurtin' me!"

"I'll let him go when you hand me what's in your pocket, Sherlock. I can't believe after..."

"Miss, I didn't give 'im no drugs."

"Sure you didn't!" Molly snapped.

"No really, I didn't. I'm his sober sponsor. I'd never help Mr. 'Olmes get drugs," Billy explained.

Molly dropped her hand. "What?" Then she suddenly recognized him. "You're the boy from the lab- that day..."

"Yes ma'am." He nodded his head as he rubbed his elbow. "You got some angry friends, Shezza."

"You were high too."

"Clean for a year." He beamed.

She looked at Sherlock. He was biting his lip and avoiding her eyes. "His sponsor? Like..."

"I just check in on 'im. See if he's doin' okay. That sorta thing."

"B-but I saw him hand you money."

"Well, I'm part of his network, ain't I? Run errands and such." He cut his eyes to Sherlock then back to Molly. "Keep a watch on, ah,... important people." Another beat passed. "Also I'm his protégé."

"No you're not," Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes.

Molly watched the exchange, carefully. "What did you hand to him then?" Even though she was starting to believe the man she still needed proof.

No one spoke. It seemed that she'd found the limit of what _Billy_ was willing to share. Turning to Sherlock she asked, "What's in your pocket?"

He looked at Billy. "I'll see you later."

The man, seemingly happy to be dismissed, turned and nearly sprinted away.

"Molly..."

"No. After everything, I won't believe you until you show me what he gave you."

He turned to leave, but she followed. "What are you hiding, Sherlock? I swear to God I'll call John. I'll call... I'll call your brother!"

Sherlock stopped so abruptly that Molly nearly crashed into his back. He stood still for a moment then turned to her. "I... it's not..." He took a deep breath puffing his cheeks out in the process. If she wasn't still so upset, she would have thought that he looked adorable (okay, maybe she thought it anyway.) He looked around the busy street then finally back to her. "It's... personal. Is that enough?"

Molly shook her head. "Of course it's not enough, you great ponce. You nearly died four months ago! And now you're acting all..." She stopped when she saw the look in his eyes. It was, well, it was peculiar. He to managed to look both vulnerable and mischievous (or was that guilty?) at the same time. There was something more though, if she didn't know better she'd call it heartbreak, "Sherlock, what the hell's going on?"

Avoiding her eyes he said, "I, ah, it really is _personal_. Just a thing that Billy... does." He flicked his eyes to her for a split second. "Let me just say that I am sorry... for everything. And it was nice to see you again. Though I wish it was under better circumstances."

He turned to go and she had decided to let him. He seemed so _lost_ for a moment. But he turned back and looked at her intensely, then smiled. It was sad, but warm. She suddenly remembered the day they'd solved crimes together, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Molly, may I ask you for something?" He spoke quietly and deliberately.

She nodded.

He licked his lips and fiddled nervously with his coat sleeve. "Um, can I have a... _hug_?"

 _Oh dear God_ , she thought, as worry bloomed once again. "Why? Sherlock, what's going on?"

He just shook his head. "Nothing's going on, per se. It's just..." He took a deep breath. "It's just that this is actually quite hard." He laughed.

She stepped closer. "Oh, Sherlock... I can't imagine. But you've got so many people who care about you. You'll beat this. I know you will."

Staring into her eyes he said, "No Molly. I wasn't talking about that."

"What _are_ you talking about then?"

He stared a moment longer then said, "What about that hug?"

As she closed the distance she decided to throw caution to the wind and put her arms inside his coat holding him through his suit jacket. She felt Sherlock's arms wrap tightly around her and his head lower until it rested on top of hers. He was mumbling against her hair, but she couldn't make out what he was saying and didn't have the heart to ask.

Finally he pulled back and immediately looked away. "Well, I'd better be..." He turned back and smiled at her. "You... Molly Hooper, you take care of yourself." Then he walked away.

She watched him for a moment before she realised that she was crying. "What the hell was that?" she said to no one in particular.

"Miss?"

She turned around to see Billy once again. "Oh, hello. You're still here?"

"Yeah, I'm always here."

"What?"

"He'll kill me... or worse," he said with a sigh.

"I'm sorry?"

He looked down at the pavement then back at Molly. "I'm your... shadow, Dr. 'Ooper."

"My..."

"I follow you. Make sure you're safe. Then report back to 'Olmes, tell 'im what you're doin'- how you're doin'. If you've had a... date," he explained.

"Why...?"

He smiled. "Well, I'm no expert, miss. But I have my theories."

"But... I don't..."

"The way I see it, Mr. 'Olmes is a complicated man and he probably don't think he's good enough for you 'specially not now."

She was sobbing by this point. "But... this doesn't make any s-sense."

"Yeah," He laughed. "He doesn't much, does he? He's headin' home right now, you know. Been a rough couple of days for 'im, see. And I'm sorta worried. It'd be a be doin' me a big favor if you could go check on 'im for me."

* * *

Sherlock managed to make it to Baker Street before the joy of the hug turn into something else altogether. As he barged through the door, completely ignoring Mrs. Hudson's queries as to his well-being, his mind was overrun with the myriad of reasons why he shouldn't have hugged Molly Hooper. _What the hell was I thinking?_

 _'That was the opposite of keeping your distance, Holmes,'_ he heard a voice echo in his head. The voice, sounded like Molly's only slightly masculine.

He ripped off his Belstaff, tossing it onto the settee, then started pacing.

 _This was a just a bad day._ He tried to cut himself some slack, he'd been doing quite well with the controlled dosage of Molly he allowed himself. Molly wasn't coke, she wasn't heroin, so he couldn't quite go cold turkey. He'd decided to ween off of her gradually. Letting Billy feed him information seemed to keep the cravings at bay. But today... first finding out how well her _date_ had gone, then getting caught with his informant and _the hug_... "Damnit!" he cursed as he continued to pace. He jerked up his sleeve, considering adding another patch. _No, no- I promised John I'd only use one at a time._

Suddenly he remembered Billy's note and pulled it out hoping for a distraction. "What? Damnit Billy!"

"What's on the paper, Sherlock?"

Looking up, he found Molly Hooper standing in his doorway. _How did I forget to close the door?_ he wondered. "Um, it doesn't matter. It's..." he looked back down at the paper.

She slowly crossed the room. "May I see it? Please?"

He very reluctantly gave up the slip of paper then turned away to face the mantel.

"Why does this have my name on it?" he heard from behind him.

"Because Billy Wiggins has impeccable timing," he answered as he crossed over to his desk and opened a drawer. Molly appeared next to him a moment later. He pulled out a couple dozen scraps of paper, tossed them on the desktop then left her to go through them.

He watched her through the corner of his eye as she read Billy's notes. She eventually sat down as she continued her study, giggling occasionally. When she laughed enthusiastically knew exactly which one she was reading. She sniffled a couple of times as well. _Molly, so sentimental._

"Really? A bible verse?" she asked as she finished turning her attention to him.

"Yes, well he's not always original," he said as he sat down in his chair.

"Inspirational quotes, reasons to stay clean, plans for your future and a dirty limerick? You've got quite a sponsor there, Sherlock."

"Perhaps I've ask too much of him," he said not making eye contact.

"How'd that happen, by the way? Billy I mean."

He sighed. "You should've seen the idiot they assigned me. Made Anderson look like Stephen Hawking."

Molly laughed. That was the second time since she'd entered his flat. He really wasn't sure how more he could take.

"So I deduced him and sent him on his way. Then realised..." He paused. "That they were right. I did need someone who had been through this... _thing_. I asked Billy and you know the rest," he said, his head down, eyes directed at the floor.

She got up and walked over to him and then knelt down at his feet, forcing him to look at her. "Why did he give you one with my name on it?"

 _Control the dosage._ "You'll have to ask him."

"I'm asking you."

He tried to look away, he really did. But it had been months since he'd really studied her. God how he missed it. She looked tired and sad, but there was something else in Molly Hooper's eyes. It was something he hadn't felt in a very long time. It was something he rarely ever felt in fact. It was terrifyingly beautiful. It was hope.

"I've kept my distance, Molly."

"But you had Billy follow me. Sends a girl mixed messages," she said with a smile.

"Please don't smile at me like that."

She took both of his hands in hers. "Sherlock, I know you're still healing, but you're not alone and you don't _have_ to keep your distance."

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because, Molly," He reached up and cupped her face with one hand. "I've abused you, your trust, your friendship. Because we both know that I don't deserve you. No matter how much I want you. And the more I'm around you, the more I... _want_." As his thumb traveled over her cheekbone he felt her shudder and watched as she flushed. It made his chest ache to know that he'd never get the chance to find the end of that blush. His hand returned to his lap.

Her eyes filled with tears as she laughed. "Oh, you silly man." She pulled him down by his lapels and he suddenly found himself being kissed by Molly Hooper.

The dosage was too high, and he knew it.

She broke the kiss before it got too intense... _thank God_.

"Sherlock Holmes, what you deserve is happiness. Whether it's with me or with someone else or with no one at all. Whatever makes you happy, so long as it's not drugs," she added, attempting to look stern. "But if you don't forgive yourself you'll never get past this and move on to the next step." She moved her hands to his face. "I forgive you and I love you. I always will. What you choose to do with that love has always been completely in your hands." She kissed his cheek then stood up. "I'm not a drug, Sherlock, I'm your friend. But I could be so much more."

As she turned to leave he stood up. "Molly..." he whispered not wanting her to go.

She turned right back around..

"I really thought it was for the best."

"You always think you know more than everyone else." Taking his hand in her she said, "Sometimes being wrong can be a good thing."

He couldn't help smiling at that. "I'm still me, you know. I'll never be..."

"Shhh! I know you. I see you, remember? How about we take this one day at a time, yeah?"

He nodded. "One day at a time? They said that in rehab. It was something I didn't delete, for some reason."

She reached up and brushed his hair off of his forehead. "Starting now?" she asked.

"Right now," he answered, then he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

* * *

 _Yeah, in my head Billy Wiggins ships these two so bloody hard... lol. Thank so much for reading. I'd love to hear from you. ~Lil~_


	7. Not So Subtle Seduction

_All right, technically this isn't a prompt. But here's what, something Mr Lil said to me made this happen, so he 'prompted' me to write this... get it? Yeah, it's a stretch, I know. Anyway, don't worry... even though this one is rated **M** , it's only slightly so due to naughty talk (that's not the Mr Lil business... not going there. See if you can find his joke.) I couldn't resist writing this bit of established Sherlolly._

 _MizJoely looked it over for me._

 _I own nothing. Hope you enjoy my cracky fun! ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-Not So Subtle Seduction-**

As Sherlock walked down the short hall towards the bedroom after his shower, his mind began to wander. It had been a long day of boring case after boring case and he'd not seen his wife for more than an hour in total. Four year old Olivia was fast asleep and he was looking forward to something a bit more _exciting_ for his evening activities.

He was only wearing a towel wrapped loosely around his hips and his most seductive grin. If he were vain (which he actually was, he'd just never admit it) he'd say he looked good, especially for a man in his early forties. The idea of doing naughty, and in some countries illegal, things to his wife had him half hard already.

As he entered their bedroom, however, he found his _beloved_ propped up in bed, wearing her least flattering pajamas (the grey ones with tiny penguins all over them), her hair an absolute mess. She had her laptop across her legs, her mobile in her hands and her tablet next to her. On his side of the bed lay two enormous pathology books, _tomes_ really, and a half dozen random pieces of paper.

This was going to require some real effort.

"Ahh, Molly?"

She didn't look up, just exchanged her phone for her tablet, pausing only to push her glasses further up on the bridge of her nose.

"Mrs. Holmes?" he called out in a sing-song voice.

She still remained focused on...

"What are you doing?" he asked a bit bewildered as to why he was being ignored.

Glancing up she said, "Oh, Sherlock. Hey, when did you get home?" She then put the tablet down and started typing on the computer.

 _Sigh_. "Forty-three minutes ago. I said hello before taking a shower."

"Right." _Click-click-click-click...click-click-click..._

"Damnit Molly!"

She jerked her head up. "WHAT?"

"I can't even get into my own bed!" he said motioning to the mess in front of him.

She gave him a quick once over, returned her focus to the computer and said, "You're not even dressed yet. And I assume you can move a couple of books."

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. He was standing there: towel clad and still slightly damp – a trick that had never failed to turn his Molly into a stammering mess – and she was still insisting on being completely oblivious to his sexiness... _what the hell_? He took a calming breath and decided to switch tactics.

"Molly," he said dropping his voice an octave.

She looked up again and finally, _finally_ noticed his towelieness. He watched as her eyes traveled over his body. "Oh!" she said.

And even though it was faint, he was sure there was a slight blush forming on her cheeks. _Ah ha!_ He knew that look.

"Right, well I'm almost finished. Just a few more notes, then we can do it," she said turning back to her work.

Sherlock planted his hands on his hips and said, "Oh God Molly, take it easy on me. My dick can only get _so_ hard."

Molly looked up once again, but this time she started laughing... hysterically. She doubled over on top of herself, cackling and shaking.

"Wasn't that funny," he said as he started picking up the giant books and dropping them, _loudly,_ onto the floor. Then he carefully gathered up the papers and laid them on top of the books. He got into bed, not even bothering to remove the damp towel and crossed his arms over his chest for a nice pout while Molly continued to laugh like a lunatic.

Finally, she wiped tears off of her cheeks, put away her many electronic devices then turned to her grumpy husband. "Hey..." She ran her hand down his chest. He shrugged. "Don't be like that. You get caught up in things too. I don't get all stroppy about it, do I?"

Still refusing to make eye contact the detective answered, "You did on several occasions whilst you were pregnant."

Molly leant up. "You have something you want to tell me? Some... _miracle_ I should know about? Because if not, you have no such excuse."

Sherlock sighed, knowing that she had a point. Getting lost in his work was a common occurrence for him. He had forewarned her about that, not to mention she'd worked with him enough to know what to expect. Though shouldn't she be afforded the same leeway when engrossed in a project? He was still deep in self-recrimination when he felt his wife's lips on his chest.

"Molly..."

She looked up at him through her lashes. "Oh my dear husband," She sat up next to him and pulled her ugly pj top over her head, exposing her breasts to him. "Stop beating yourself up. Besides, you have my attention now. You and your... _towel_."

He smirked and pulled his wife on top of him for a deep kiss.

Molly broke the kiss and scooted down his legs peeling the towel away as she went. "Now, you said something about how hard your dick can get. Shall we test some theories?"

* * *

 _: ) Okay, thanks for reading that. You all rock! Love you ~Lil~_


	8. Fifth Times The Charm

_**Anonymous on Tumblr asked:** HI hi.. I love your Sherlolly fics. I think you are a tremendous writer. I wasn't sure if you were excepting any prompts but if you were I was wondering if you could write one for me. Sherlock trying to propose to Molly in various ways but she keeps saying no because she wants him to really think about what he is asking and if it's what he really wants. But if she was to admit it to herself she thinks she's not worthy of him and that's why she keeps telling him no. Thanks in advance!_

 _Fun! Okay, here's what I did with it! MizJoely did her magic, so many thanks to her. This one's rate **T** for mentions of sex. ; )_

 _I own nothing. Please enjoy! ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-Fifth Times The Charm-**

He knew the first time was a complete disaster, but emotions were high and it just sort of... happened. Blurting out 'we should get married' moments after the first time they made love... definitely _not good_. But after that first (okay, he could admit it) failure, he waited. Sherlock didn't broach the subject of matrimony again for three long weeks.

Attempt number two went almost as badly, though the fact that they were both clothed did count in his favour, he hoped. She still said no, however. He had been _so_ certain that a walk along the Themes was the perfect romantic setting, perhaps not.

The third time, that was rather embarrassing actually. He had taken a cue from John, escorted her to an expensive restaurant and looked deeply into her eyes just after the champagne had been poured. Molly evidently knew it was coming because she quickly excused herself, saying she was feeling ill, and managed to get a cab before Sherlock could even get his bearings.

Tonight however, during a relaxing evening of take-away and a Hitchcock film, he felt almost confident. It had been two months since the restaurant fiasco and he'd been careful not to bring up anything to spook his oddly commitment-phobic girlfriend. Unfortunately when the mere mention of _'the possibility of future matrimony'_ (he'd carefully chosen his words) caused fear to flash in Molly's eyes, he was nearly ready to admit defeat... at least for the time being. He kissed her sweetly and told her to get some sleep, she had an early morning after all. He was halfway home when he realised that he'd forgotten his mobile in his rush to leave.

After knocking several times he was starting to get worried, really worried. He'd only been gone thirty minutes. Where could she be? Finally he picked her locks and let himself in. Molly wasn't in the lounge, the kitchen or her bedroom. He called out for her, but received no answer. Deciding, hoping really, that she might have taken her rubbish to the bins behind her building, Sherlock made his way outside.

He found her in the courtyard chatting with her elderly neighbour, Mrs. Peace. His intention was to make himself known, but when he heard her sniffle then say his name, he halted his movement.

"I don't understand," Molly said.

"Well, perhaps if you could talk it out, deary," the older woman replied. "You told him no, and did you give him a reason?"

"Ah, I've told him that I want him to make sure it's what he really wants."

"You question his sincerity?"

Molly laughed. "I question his sanity at this point."

"Why?"

There was a pause and Sherlock could barely breathe waiting for her answer.

"Well, why me?" Molly said in a small voice that sounded nothing like the voice he was used to hearing. "I'm just... his pathologist."

"I'm sorry?"

"Why is he even with me? I-I've tried to understand it, especially after the second time he asked and I said no... _again_. I've spent a lot of time thinking about it, Mrs. Peace, I really have. I've never really figured it out." She paused. "And the thing is, if I don't know- if he can't make _me_ understand... how do I know that it's real?"

"Have you considered asking him?"

"I'm just enjoying being with him... for now."

"Molly," the woman gently spoke. "Why on earth would he ask you to marry him, if he didn't actually want to be with you?"

He heard his girlfriend sob. "I don't know. Guilt. Duty... Loneliness."

"Oh, you poor thing."

Sherlock was completely gobsmacked. This possibility had never crossed his mind. He'd been absolutely certain that Molly's hesitance was because of him and his inadequacies. He was the one with almost no experience in relationships (and possibly a psychiatric disorder). He was the one who'd hurt her and overlooked her for years. If anyone had reasons to be insecure, it was him, even if he didn't exactly admit it out loud. This was his doing, and he knew it. He'd not made his feelings clear.

He heard muffled sobs, and frankly he'd had enough- more than enough. He walked around the corner and cleared his throat. "Mrs. Peace, might I speak with Molly alone?"

The pair both turned and looked at him.

The older woman smiled. "Oh, of course." She gave Molly a kind hug then left the couple alone.

Sherlock studied the most important person in his life very carefully, knowing that now more than ever he had to say the right thing. She had turned to face forward and was drying her eyes. He thought for a moment before taking a seat on the bench next to her.

"Molly, look at me," he said.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. But I can't."

She was embarrassed, he realised. "Fine," he said. "I believe there are some things that need to be clarified, Molly Hooper." He focused on her profile as he said the next words. "Have I not told you that I love you?"

She nodded.

"Yet you don't believe me?"

She shook her head. "I j-just don't understand it."

"Well, then let me make myself perfectly clear. I love you, Molly Louise Hooper, Specialist Registrar, personal saviour of Sherlock Holmes, because you are intelligent and knowledgeable. Because you are gracious and caring. I love you because brave and forgiving." She finally turned to look at him, so he took her sweet, tear-stained face in his hands. "My God Molly, you are so incredibly beautiful." He kissed both cheeks. "That's why I want you to be my wife. That's why I keep asking. And that's why I won't stop."

"Oh, Sherlock," she cried.

"I'm sorry, this is my fault. I should have been clearer. But I honestly thought that you understood. I thought that asking you to marry me every few weeks was a clear indication of my affection."

Molly laughed through her tears.

Sherlock shook his head. "If anyone should be worried, Molly, it should be me. I took too long. I hurt you. I let you date a psychopath. I put you in danger." He closed his eyes at the memory of the worst and best night of his life.

"Please don't," she said as she touched his cheek. "That wasn't your fault."

His mind raced. He'd tried not to think about _the_ incident over the last few months. But the moment that the wife of a criminal he'd put away for life had barged into the path lab and grabbed the first person she'd seen, who happened to be his pathologist, everything had become quite clear. That may have been the catalyst, but the feelings weren't something new.

He suddenly realised that Molly was speaking to him. "I'm sorry?"

"Don't do that. I hate it when you do that," she said running her fingers through his hair.

He swallowed hard knowing he needed to lay it all out, even if that meant damaging his pride. "I don't deserve you. I know I don't," he said pulling her closer. "But I want you. I always will. Never doubt yourself, Molly. You are everything." He captured her lips with his in a fierce kiss.

Molly whimpered, digging her nails into his scalp with one hand and tightly gripping his shoulder with the other. Then she abruptly broke the kiss.

"Yes!" she said breathlessly.

 _What?_ "Yes?"

"Yes, I'll marry you."

"You will?" he asked, almost not believing her.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded.

"Finally!" he said with a sigh.

Molly giggled. "Don't you have something for me?"

He stared at her, a little confused.

"Something you've been trying to give me for several months..."

 _Damnit!_ "Yes! The ring!" He dug into his breast pocket and produced the small velvet covered box. Then he pulled out the ring that had been in the Holmes' family for several generations and slipped it onto Molly's delicate finger. "Perfect."

Molly smiled up at him. "Yes, it is."

He looked up at his new fiancé and said, "We should go celebrate."

"Now you've got it. This is the correct order. First the engagement _then_ the celebratory sex. But remember I have to be at work in the morning," she said as she got up.

Sherlock followed. "Oh, you won't be going to work tomorrow. I'll need a _least_ an entire day to show you just how much I love you."

* * *

 _Thank so much for reading! Let me know what you think! ~Lil~_


	9. Miles and Milestones

_**MizJoely said:** Congrats on the milestone, and that's the one-word prompt - milestone! Sherlolly and Mythea if you please!_

 _All right, I had a LOT of fun with this one... perhaps too much. Great prompt, thank you Miz! MrsMCrieff beta'd and Brit-picked this one for me, so bless her British heart! This one's a_ _ **VERY strong T**_ _._

 _I own nothing. Enjoy.~Lil~_

* * *

 **-Miles and Milestones-**

They'd been driving for forty-five minutes and Molly was more than a bit bored, not to mention tired. Keeping up with Sherlock's energy level for three days straight had all but exhausted her. She glanced down at the clock on the car's dashboard then asked, "How much longer?"

"According to the last milestone we're forty-three miles from London. Should be about an hour, depending on traffic. Though this time of the evening it shouldn't be a problem," he explained.

Turning her head back to the window, she sighed. _Another hour and I can sleep in my own bed_ , she thought. She hadn't hesitated to except his request for her assistance. Missing art seemed safe enough and it had been, as it turned out. John was busy preparing for the arrival of his and Mary's second child (a boy this time). Molly had been helping Sherlock more and more in the last few years. It certainly made her life more interesting, if not a bit maddening. Suddenly something he'd said struck her as unusual and she laughed softly.

"What is it Molly?"

"Well, you actually. Navigating by signs and milestones rather than using the sat nav."

Sherlock glanced at her then back to the road. "I can't stand that annoying contraption. The constant updates. _That voice_. Besides, I don't need directions. I'm well aware of where I'm going."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Of course. But it _is_ handy to know the distance left to your destination. And you _can_ silence it, or did you not know that?" she mocked.

"Yes, I'm aware. But why would I need a device to tell me the distance when I can refer to the milestones?"

"You love technology. Yet you prefer to rely on way markers that have been standing, in most cases, for hundreds of years." She laughed. "How am I not supposed to find that ironic?"

Sherlock actually smiled at that. Just after wrapping up the case he'd been filled with nervous energy; fidgety and chatty. He'd replayed the entire investigation; going over all his brilliant deductions as if Molly hadn't been there the entire time. She'd listened while they'd eaten a large meal before starting the drive back to London. His energy had dissipated during the drive, as had the conversation.

After a few minutes of silence Sherlock spoke up again.

"Milestones can refer to a lot of different things, can't they? Do we have any in our relationship, Molly?" he asked not taking his eyes off of the road in front of him.

"People tend to confuse what that word _actually_ means," she replied. Molly was a bit of a logophile. Perhaps it was something she'd picked up from years of being around Sherlock and his need to be right... _all the damn time_. "It's more to do with marking a great achievement or life changing event rather than an anniversary of something."

"Are you saying there've been no great achievements in our relationship?"

She decided not to dwell on his use of the word ' _relationship_ ' twice now, and focus on the question. "Um, well, I suppose the anniversary of day we met would be a milestone of sorts, since knowing you certainly changed the course of _my_ life. Let's see..."

"We've known each other for nine years, eight months and fourteen days," he interjected without hesitation.

Molly stared at his profile. To be honest she was having a hard time remembering the exact date that they had met. She remembered the day- she remembered meeting him, of course. But the actual _date_... Deciding to chalk it up to what she suspected was his eidetic memory, though she'd never asked him about it, she moved on. "Right. So, we're coming up on ten years. Wow."

"Hmm."

"I guess the anniversary of your fake death could be a milestone, as well," she added. "I've never committed that many felonies at one time before."

He looked at her and smiled fondly. "Though perhaps we celebrate that in private. It's still a sore spot for some people."

Molly laughed. A few minutes passed as she tried to think of something else memorable to comment on. Clearly Sherlock was feeling nostalgic. It was very unlike him, but she'd take advantage of it nonetheless.

"The first time I kissed you. Though that gets swallowed up in all the holiday festivities," Sherlock said, again not looking at her, eyes focused on the road ahead.

 _Kissed me? What?_ "Ah, when have you ever kissed me?" she asked, somewhat bewildered.

Sherlock looked at her, his brows furrowed. "What are you talking about? I kiss you all the time."

Before Molly could respond the car started to sputter and lose speed.

"Bloody hell!" Sherlock cursed.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Consulting detective, not an auto mechanic," he said as he eased the car to the side of the two lane road.

He fiddled with the many buttons on the dash. Finally after a few moments he said, "Ah ha." Then he turned to her. "We're out of petrol."

"It didn't alert you?"

"Well if it did would we be stranded on a country road at 10.33 at night? The gauge is obviously faulty," he said with an eye roll. He pulled out his phone. "I'll contact Mycroft, he can send someone."

"Marvelous," Molly said then she dropped her head on the back of the seat.

A minute or so later Sherlock got a text. "Twenty minutes."

"How could anyone be here in twenty minutes? Is he sending us fuel via heli-drop?"

"My brother has his ways. I don't question them." He put away his mobile. "I'm going to die of boredom."

"It's twenty minutes, Sherlock. You'll live." She studied him for a moment. "Come on, get out," she said before getting out of the car. She walked to the boot and leant against it then waited for her trip-mate.

"What are you doing?" he asked when he joined her.

"I have a question and you're going to answer it." She hoisted herself up onto the boot, her feet dangling down.

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest. "O-kay."

"Our 'first kiss'. What the hell are you talking about?" she asked making air quotes around the words first and kiss.

"Sorry?" He leaned in and cocked his head to the side.

"And what do you mean you kiss me all the time?"

"The 'first kiss' in question would be _that_ Christmas and of course I do. When I'm leaving your presence I... kiss you."

"You memorialised _that_ kiss? I mean, I understand why I did. It was a... memorable evening for me, but why you?" He suddenly looked uncomfortable, turning away from her. "Oh, because of that woman. That woman in the morgue."

He snapped his attention back to Molly. "No! Why would I... Not because of her. Because... I... because it was the first time you stood up to me. Because it was the first that time I saw _this_ Molly. That's... that's why it's a milestone, for me at least."

She was a bit stunned to be honest. She had no idea how to respond to that. Finally a thought occurred to her. "But our _kisses,_ as you've put it, they're no different than the ones that you share with Mary Watson, for instance. Do you remember the first time you _kissed_ your best friend's wife?"

Sherlock looked thoughtful like he was searching his mind. "Honestly, no. But she's different."

"Different how?"

"As you just said, she's John's wife."

The conversation was starting to give Molly a headache. "But the kisses are the same."

"No, no they're not," he argued.

"What makes them different?"

He paused as he studied her. Finally he said, "Intent."

Molly took a deep breath as she tried to wrap her brain around that word... _intent_. _What the hell?_ Sherlock must have seen that she was having a hard time grasping his meaning because he elaborated.

"When I kiss Mary it's to express my fondness for her, as my friend. My admiration for her for all that she's overcome. I care deeply for her, Molly, I can't help it. She's a formidable woman. She also helped John when he was at his lowest. I might go as far as to say that I... love her almost as much as I love John." He looked out in the distance. "Repeat that and I'll call you a liar."

Molly giggled.

He looked back to her, the intensity of his gaze freezing her for a moment. "But when I kiss you... it's to express..." His eyes traveled over her face. "To express my... devotion." The last word came out as a whisper. He stepped closer. "My appreciation for all that you've done. For putting up with me all these years. For _not_ putting up with my nonsense and for loving me when I was _so_ unlovable." He smiled. "If I thought I could get away with something other than a kiss on the cheek without your ire soon following, I would have done it a long time ago." His smile faded. "But that ship, as they say... has _sailed_."

He started to step away but Molly grabbed him by his lapels and pulled him back, crashing her lips to his.

 _This_ date she'd remember. _This_ date she'd never forget.

The day _she_ kissed Sherlock Holmes.

She tilted her head as she slid her lips across his realising, much to her displeasure, that he was somewhat frozen; not really responding. It was terrifying. Then his hands were suddenly on her hips and his tongue was in her mouth. He emitted a growl and the kiss changed in an instant. She was no longer in control.

His hands moved just underneath her jumper and tee shirt to graze the skin above her trousers causing Molly to moan and break the kiss. She wouldn't allow him to think he'd gone too far, however. She kissed across those delicious cheekbones until she found his neck, then she set to work. That neck had fascinated her on many occasions. It turned out that it tasted as good as it looked.

Sherlock pulled her closer to the edge of the car and fitted himself between her legs. His hands moved up her back, nails digging into her flesh. There was no mistaking his enjoyment, even if he hadn't been breathing heavily and softly cursing, since his erection was pressing into Molly's centre.

He had just started sucking and nibbling on her throat, having moved his hands to her front to find her breasts, when bright lights interrupted their glorious snog. Sherlock rested his head on her shoulder and his hands on the boot. Molly looked up to see Anthea getting out of the passenger side of a black Jag. _How long were we making out?_ she wondered.

"Hey you two," the gorgeous brunette said. "Found something to do to kill the time I see."

Sherlock was still facing Molly, most likely wishing he had put on his Belstaff when he'd gotten out of the car. "I need you to get down and stand in front of me... please," Sherlock whispered.

He stood back and Molly hopped down then took her place in front of him. He put his hands on her shoulders.

"And here's the requested petrol," a very smug Mycroft Holmes said, small can in hand.

"Ahh, yes. Thank you, Mycroft," Sherlock said.

The older Holmes smirked and put the can on the ground near Molly's feet. "You need to put that in the car, you know."

Anthea walked forward. "Don't spook him now, Myc. God knows it took him long enough."

"How'd you get here so quick?" Molly asked, trying to change the subject.

"We were just down the road. He," she gestured to her boss, "wanted to call someone. It would have taken ages and I didn't want to leave you stranded with Sherlock. Though I can see now that that wouldn't have been a problem." She winked.

Molly looked around at the deserted country-side. "Down the road where?"

Anthea smiled and looped her arm around Mycroft's waist. "The B&B a few miles back. We're celebrating."

Then Mycroft Holmes did the most uncharacteristic thing Molly had ever witnessed in her life. He smiled, _brightly,_ and kissed his PA on the forehead.

"Congratulations, brother," Sherlock said. "Three and a half months?"

"Oh, stop showing off," Anthea said. "She knows how clever you are."

"Have you told Mummy?"

"Heading there in the morning," Mycroft explained. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll take Miss Hooper for a visit very soon."

Sherlock walked over and got the can then went to the other side of the car.

"I didn't even know you two were together," Molly commented.

Anthea giggled. "No offense dear, but you also didn't know that Sherlock fancied you." She made a face.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, dear. It's one of my best kept secrets. Speaking of which there will be some paperwork for you to sign when you return to London."

"What? Is this a part of the Official Secrets Act?" Molly joked.

Mycroft just raised an eyebrow at her then looked over her shoulder. "I assume you can find a fuel station on your own."

That's when Molly realised Sherlock was putting the can in the boot.

"Of course I can. Go, enjoy the calm before the storm." He turned. "Mother's going to be unbearable, you know."

Mycroft nodded. "Oh, I'm afraid she already suspects." He sighed. "Been getting coded emails and text messages containing suggested names." Then he turned and walked back to the car. Anthea waved and followed.

Molly turned to Sherlock. "Anything else I need to know?"

He smiled and came over to kiss her once more. "Nope. I think that's enough milestones for one night don't you?"

Molly returned his kiss before smiling wickedly. "Oh, I don't know I think there's time for just one more. Now how fast can you get us back to Baker St?"

* * *

 _Hope you liked it! Please review, you know how much I appreciate them. Thanks for reading! ~Lil~_


	10. Outraging Public Decency

_**consulting-patholgist on tublr asked:**_ _Greg finding out Sherlock and Molly are a couple when he shows up to arrest them. Any rating you wish!_

 _Okay... I had to abuse Greg a little here... but it was soooo much fun! Thanks so much!_

 _The lovely and talented MrsMCrieff beta'd and Brit-picked this one and also helped me with the police lingo (she has insider info). This one's_ _ **T**_ _for some salty language._

 _I own nothing. Enoy. ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-Outraging Public Decency-**

Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade was baffled. He'd been called, on his day off (which really wasn't that abnormal), to come to the Peter Harrison Planetarium for an Outraging Public Decency call ( _what the actual fuck?_ ). This was in no way, shape, form or fashion his division. The Sergeant had given him no other specifics, though he'd been entirely too giddy in his delivery.

Frankly Greg wasn't in the mood. He and Lydia had just broken up... again. He'd spent the night before with a bottle of whisky trying to forget about the fact that he was on the wrong side of fifty and still playing make-up and break-up with his ex-wife. He stormed up to the closest officer and demanded to know why he'd been called, not noticing the amused looks on the faces of the officers around him.

"Sorry Detective Inspector, but we thought you'd be upset if we _didn't_ call you in for this one," a smiling officer named Hadley explained.

Greg looked around finally noticing the surprising number of Yarders that had collected for such a low level offense. "Okay... why? And what's with them." He pointed to the laughing men and women all around.

"Well, it's the offenders, sir. Um, here I'll show you." The young man walked Greg over to car and opened the back door to revel a disheveled Sherlock Holmes and an equally disheveled Dr. Molly Hooper.

"What the bloody hell?" Greg exclaimed.

"It's not what it looks like!" Molly offered immediately.

"You better have a good explanation. Because I got called down here to deal with a couple of, what I thought were kids, caught half naked and snoggin' the life out of each other in the back row of the planetarium. So...a case? You two undercover or something?"

"Yes! That's it! A case!" Molly practically yelled. "Now can you get these handcuffs off of me, they hurt." She held her hands up to him.

Sherlock had yet to speak, just sat there with a smug smile on his face. Greg was suspicious. "Sherlock, what's this case about then?"

"Ahh, yes. The _case_." He cut his eyes to Molly who looked at him pleadingly. "Um, well..." He turned back to Greg with the most unusual smirk he'd ever seen.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Greg said.

Sherlock laughed. "Molly dear, I do believe the jig is up."

"No, really we- we were watching this s-suspect, you see... and- and he ran into the planetarium..."

Sherlock turned to Molly. "What? Then we decided the best way to catch him was to start making out and removing each other's clothes? You have my teeth marks on your neck, for God's sake. Don't insult poor Glen's intelligence." He shot Greg an apologetic look.

Greg was flabbergasted. He had no idea that there was something going on between Molly and Sherlock. Although it did make sense in an odd sort of way. She'd always had a thing for him... but _Sherlock_? Maybe it was just an ego thing for him. Maybe he was just enjoying the attention...

"MY FAULT?" Molly suddenly yelled pulling Greg out of his thoughts. Evidently the couple had been arguing the whole time.

"Yes, your fault. It was your idea to come here. If I hadn't been completely bored by the planet... _thing_. I wouldn't have needed a distraction!"

"Distraction? I'm just a distraction!"

Greg watched the exchange with rapt attention... this was gettin' good.

"Well, if that's all I am then you can find something else to _distract_ you. Perhaps an experiment or case. Something over a five I'm sure will keep your attention long enough to..."

She was cut off by Sherlock pulling her forward (not easily done, since his hands were still cuffed) and kissing her soundly. "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. Of course you're not _just_ a distraction. But the solar system is boring and your breasts are not." He kissed her again.

Greg cleared his throat but that did nothing to stop them, they just went right on kissing like it was perfectly normal. He said both their names, but was completely ignored. Finally he gave up and tossed a set of keys onto Sherlock's lap and strolled over to Hadley.

"What are we going to do with them, Detective Inspector?" the young man asked.

"Ah, I'll take care of them. A warning and some humiliation should do." He turned to the crowd of officers. "Don't you lot have shitbags you should be arresting?"

When he looked back Molly and Sherlock had managed to dislodge themselves from each other and were standing next to the police car. "Have you learned your lesson? My God, you both have flats for this sort of thing."

"Of course, Greg. I'm so, so sorry," Molly said.

"Don't mention it... ever!" He sighed. "I need a drink."

"It's a little early for that, isn't it Lestrade?" Sherlock asked with a smirk.

"Will you stop it with the smirking. Givin' me the creeps." He shivered. "You two need a ride somewhere?"

Sherlock attempted to look serious. "Ah, no. We can manage."

"Fine. Try to keep your clothes on."

Molly and Sherlock walked off hand in hand and Greg pulled out his mobile. "Hey John. You're meeting me for a drink. Why? Because I have a story that you're not gonna believe!" He looked at the seat in the car to get his keys and the handcuffs, only to find them missing. "Oh, that bastard!" He took a deep breath. "You know what John? Call Mycroft see if he wants to have a drink with us and hear what I caught his little brother doing today."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! Love a review! ; ) ~Lil~_


	11. You Are Not Alone

_**Anonymous asked:**_ _I love your stories. One word prompt - 'Waiting'. Rating no higher than T please. Thank you._

 _It's not a song fic! (Although I love that song.) I don't think this is what you had in mind Anonymous, and I'm sorry it got so sad. But this week brings back some very rough memories for me and this is where my mind went when I saw your prompt._ _ **Warning:**_ _parental illness. This one is rated_ _ **K**_ _. There is sadness, but also lots and lots of fluff!  
_

 _I own nothing. ~Lil~_

 _Thanks to MrsMCrieff for betaing and general awesomeness._

* * *

 ** _-You Are Not Alone-_**

Sherlock rushed into Barts eager to test the samples he'd collected from a double homicide. He could do it himself but he needed Molly to gain access to the hospital's computer system. Anderson, _the reinstated idiot_ , and his team had taken samples as well but he had absolutely no faith in their abilities. He checked the Path Lab but only found some doctor he'd never met before and a bunch of interns. Then he checked the morgue, still no Dr. Hooper. His text messages and phone calls had gone unanswered so after checking her office he ran the samples himself and asked the interns to take care of the rest. While he was waiting he went to find Mike Stamford to see if he knew where Molly had gotten off to.

He was taken-aback by Mike's explanation. " _What_?"

"I just assumed you knew," Mike replied. "It happened day before yesterday. She's at Charing Cross."

Sherlock stood frozen for a moment trying to figure out what to do before pulling out his mobile. "John, I need you to get down to Barts and wait on the results of the samples I took from the crime scene. They'll prove that it was the business partner not the wife. I have to... I have somewhere I need to be." He rolled his eyes as he listened to his blogger complain. "I know I told you to go home, and now I'm telling you that you have to come back." He rushed out of the hospital looking for a cab. "It's... important John."

Less than thirty minutes later Sherlock walked into the hospital room of Margaret Hooper to find his pathologist curled up in a chair looking like she'd not eaten or slept in days.

"Molly," he said as gently as he could.

She looked up startled. "Sherlock, what are you doing here?"

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Um, I don't know. I... you're busy," she said avoiding eye contact.

Now that he was actually here he wasn't sure what to do. But the moment that Mike had told him that Molly's mother had suffered a major stroke and was currently in a coma, he had a sudden and uncontrollable urge to be with her.

"Don't you have a case or something?" she asked as he walked up to the bed.

"John's handling it."

She jerked her head up. "You're letting John handle it?"

"He's not a complete idiot."

Molly smiled for a split second.

"When was the last time you ate, Molly?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I was force fed Mrs. Hudson's Shepard's pie just last night, thank you very much."

"I'm fine, Sherlock. You should get back to work," she said.

He looked over and saw a very small sofa against the wall. "If you won't eat, will you at least try to get some sleep?"

"I can't sleep. She needs me. I'm all she has."

He walked to the other side of the bed and crouched down until he was eye level with her. "Molly, you'll be right here. Come on, I'll sit with you."

She looked at him and he could see the black circles under her beautiful eyes. The sight made his chest tighten.

Finally she got up and let him lead her to the sofa, he picked up the blanket someone had left clearly in the hopes that she'd take advantage of it and he sat down holding out his arm. Molly's face crumpled and she practically fell onto him, crying on his chest.

After a couple of minutes she looked up. "I-I'm sorry." She tried to wipe the moisture off of his suit jacket.

"Don't apologise, Molly. There's no need." He covered her up with the blanket when she tried to move off of him and pulled her closer. She didn't speak again for more than thirty minutes. He hoped that she'd fallen asleep, but he didn't think she had. A short while later she spoke up.

"She's all I've got, Sherlock. Dad's gone. It was always just the three of us." She paused and dried her eyes, or tried to, but the tears just kept coming. "I need to make a decision, but I can't. How do I let go of the only person I have left?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and fought against the sudden and very foreign rush of emotions. He imagined his mother hooked up to machines, his father. He pictured John and Mary, Mrs. Hudson, even his brother on the brink of death. Then he saw Molly lying there, not really alive but not actually dead and he felt like he was going to be sick. He'd always fancied himself a loner, but in truth he was surrounded by people and for some odd reason they all seemed to love him. How was it that Molly Hooper, of all people, felt so alone? What kind of a world let that happen? _He_ had allowed that to happen, he realised. His stubborn pride and misguided sense of right and wrong.

He kissed the top of her head. "You're not alone, Molly. I'm here."

She looked up and smiled at him. She smiled. In the middle of all her heartache, she took a moment to smile at _him_. "I know that. But it's not the same. I'd always thought I'd be settled before I lost her, you know? That I'd have someone to love. That I'd have someone who loved me by now. She's leaving this world thinking that I'm all alone." She laughed. "I'm being selfish, aren't I? Not wanting to let go because of my own needs."

"I don't think you could be selfish if you tried, Molly." He pulled her closer. "What have the doctors said?"

"That she's gone. There's very little brain activity, she can't even breath on her own. She's an organ donor. I have to..." Her voice caught and she sobbed once again.

All that he could do was hold her close and stroke her hair. "Molly..."

"I know- I know." She moved out of his arms. "I'll go tell them."

"No, I'll go get them. You take a moment alone with your mother. Do you want to stay... after? I'll be here with you." Molly nodded. Taking a person off of life-support wasn't simple; he knew it and of course so did Molly. It could take minutes or hours for them to expire.

"Please tell them to make her comfortable. I don't want her to s-suffer... while it's happening."

He sat up on the edge of the sofa and took her face in his hands. "Listen to me. You are _not_ alone. You're coming to Baker Street when this is over. I know you're not used to it, but I'm going to take care of _you_ for once." Then he leaned in and placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

Molly nodded then went to sit next to her mum.

Sherlock paused in the doorway before going to let the staff know that Molly had made her decision. He made a vow to himself then and there as he looked at her that she'd never feel alone again.

* * *

 _I know it was sad, but please let me know if you liked it. Thanks so much for reading. ~Lil~_


	12. Dodgy Dancing

_**potterlockianegalitarian928 on tumblr said:**_ _Wedding K-T_

 _All right... this one's more upbeat than the last one and rated_ _ **K+**_ _(a tiny bit of swearing.) Big thanks to MizJoely betaing this for me. And thanks go to MrsMCrieff for her... suggestion. Also thanking VonPeeps for help with the title! (It takes a village, yo!)_

 _I own nothing. Enjoy!~Lil~_

* * *

 **-Dodgy Dancing-**

 _Good God! Molly Hooper might just be the worst dancer in the known universe_ , Sherlock thought as he stood near the wall and watched the pathologist attempt some kind of... _dance move?_ Could he call it that? The smile was on his lips before he could stop it. Yes, she was horrible, but she also managed to look incredibly adorable... somehow. Argh! He felt a horrible sense of déjà vu as he, once again, watched Molly dancing at wedding with some ungainly lad. The fact that she was unattached this time lessened his torment a fraction, but not enough to count.

She was wearing a light blue knee length sun dress and kitten heals. No ridiculous bow this time to impede her golden brown hair, it simply flowed over her shoulders looking silky and soft. _She'd look lovely in white or maybe cream.._. He shook his head and took another drink of scotch. _Damn weddings!_

Today he had witnessed the wedding of Gage (or was it Garret?) Lestrade to none other than Sally Donovan. _No accounting for taste_ , he thought as he glanced at the bride and groom quickly before his eyes found the petite brunette once again. She was laughing and... _what's she trying to do exactly? Is she unwell?_

"If you think you can do better, why don't you go show her how it's done?" Mary Watson said as she suddenly appeared in Sherlock's peripheral vision.

"I've no idea to what you are referring," Sherlock said as he found something else to look at. _Oh yes, Mrs. Hudson's hitting on the head chef. How... predictable._

"I'm talking about the fact that you've been standing over here all night watching Molly Hooper like you're either her grumpy body guard or her creepy stalker. I can't decide if it's cute or tragic." She took a drink of her wine.

Sherlock glanced down at his best friend's wife. "Perhaps you should call it a night, Mrs. Watson. It seems that you've had one too many."

She laughed. "You're funny. Don't give me that look, you are." She took another drink. "Listen." She leaned in closer to him. "I _deduce_ that you've been pining after the lovely Miss Hooper since you came back from your mission."

Sherlock eyed her suspiciously.

"I can observe too, Mr. Holmes. You know I'm quite good at it. I've had to be. I would have called you on it at my own wedding but I was too distracted with my gorgeous husband, the near murder and then finding out that I was pregnant. It was a busy day. I don't get many chances to watch the two of you, but when I do it's like some horrible 80's rom-com. Just go dance with her or better yet, grab her up and kiss her breathless."

"I'm sorry, Mary, but I believe you're confusing me with Dirk Bogarde."

"My God Sherlock! When was the last time you watched a film?"

He thought for a moment but was interrupted by Mary once again.

"Never mind. Molly loves the cinema, so that'll soon be rectified." She grabbed his drink out of his hand. "Go ask her to dance, quick before that new hot detective asks her. He's been eyeing her all night."

Yes, he'd seen the fair-haired interloper watching Molly throughout the evening. It was disgusting. It was depraved. It was... _oh, exactly what I've been doing_ , he realised. With a push on his back from the slightly inebriated Mrs. Watson, he found himself walking towards Molly and her horrific dancing. He glanced at the 'hot young detective', as Mary had called him, giving a him cocky grin. Then he was suddenly standing next to his pathologist trying to decide how to proceed. She made some sort of jerky move and turned toward him.

"Oh Sherlock, what are you doing? I thought you were going to skulk in the shadows all night." She smiled brightly.

"Well, I couldn't let you keep embarrassing yourself."

"Ha! You're just jealous of all my rhythm!" She winked.

"I can assure you that's not the case."

"Did you give up your spot just to come and insult me, or do you plan to dance?" she challenged.

He looked around the dance floor. "Not really my kind of music."

"I don't think they'll be playing Bach anytime soon." She turned her back on him and wiggled her hips once again.

Sherlock had had enough. He grabbed her hand and led her off of the dance floor and out the exit.

"Damnit Sherlock! I was gettin' my grove on!" she complained, pulling her hand from his.

"You'll need dance lessons before our wedding, I can tell you that!" he blurted.

"Oh, you think so?"

"Yes! For God's sake, Molly! I've seen better dancing at a care home!"

Molly started laughing so hard she nearly stumbled. Luckily Sherlock caught her and helped her to a marble bench where she collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"What is so funny?"

"You just insulted me while simultaneously insinuating that we'd be married, you idiot!"

Her laughter continued as Sherlock tried to recall what he'd just said. "Oh, I did... didn't I?"

"Yes, you did." She wiped tears away and started to regain her composure. "And just so you know, I _can_ dance. But I prefer to enjoy myself, cut loose a bit." She stood up and walked over to him, placing a hand on his chest. "You should try it every once in a while... you might like it."

"I-I can cut loose," he scoffed, or tried to. The stuttering didn't help his cause.

"Reeeeally?" She looped her arms around his neck. "Show me."

"Show you what?" he asked as he placed his hands on her hips.

"Show me what my future husband's like when he lets go of his buttoned up persona." She pushed up on her tip toes and kissed his neck.

Back inside the reception a small group of people had gathered around the exit door and were watching the spectacle.

"I'm gonna puke!" Sally Lestrade née Donovan said.

"Finally! I thought I was gonna have to lock them in a cell," her new husband commented before grabbing her hand and pulling her away.

Mrs. Hudson giggled. "I think it's adorable."

"You had something to do with this didn't you?" John asked his grinning wife.

"Oh stop it! Everything isn't a conspiracy." She grabbed his face and kissed him. "Come on, let's leave them to it. You too Mrs. Hudson. You were making some progress with that chef."

The older woman looked at Mary. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I see your point." Then she turned back to the kissing couple. "Oh, my, they definitely need some privacy."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! ~Lil~_


	13. Ridiculous Romantic Holiday

_amber-one-owl on tumblr asked: Congrats to your follower milestone! :-) For the prompt: Sherlolly, awkward Valentine's Day, please?_

 _I also got an anon Valentines prompt, so I'm combining them_ _. Hope that's okay. Thank you both so much!  
_

 _Thanks to MizJoely for her betaing and her wonderful suggestions. This one's rated_ _ **T**_ _._

 _I own nothing. Enjoy. ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-Ridiculous Romantic Holiday-**

Molly sat staring across the restaurant wondering what had possessed her to agree to this farce. She took a very large drink of wine then leaned back in her chair and pushed her food around on her plate. How could two people with so much in common have absolutely nothing to talk about? She looked at her dinner companion, who seemed painfully uncomfortable as he studied the desert menu like it was the single most interesting thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

She'd finally had enough. "Why in the name of all things Holy did you ask me to dinner?

He pulled his attention away from the riveting menu and said, "What do you mean?"

"Don't screw with me, Sherlock. I'm just annoyed enough to stab you with a fork. You know I'm good for it and these aren't plastic." She held up her weapon of choice for good measure.

He nervously fiddled with his napkin and cleared his throat. "It was clear that you had no plans for this ridiculous holiday..."

"So this is some sort of pity dinner!" she interrupted, refusing to refer to it as a date. There was nothing about this evening that remotely resembled a date.

Sherlock's jaws clenched. "If you'd allow me to finish..." He sighed. "I deduced that you had no plans for this evening and I thought you'd rather spend your time with me than curled up with that cat of yours. Obviously I was incorrect. It can happen to even the best of minds."

He never once made eye contact. _He's lying!_ Sherlock Holmes always looked a person dead in the eyes when he was speaking to them, especially when he was making a point. It was intimidating and disarming. Molly had known the consulting ass-hat long enough to know at least most of his tells and _this_ was one of them. Now, if she could only figure out... _Oh, no they didn't! How could they do this to me? How humiliating!_

"What did they threaten you with, Sherlock?" she asked trying and failing to contain her anger.

"I'm sorry?"

"Let's see... what could be frightening enough to get you to take poor pitiful me out on Valentine's Day? Did John threaten to stop helping with cases? Or delete the blog? It'd have to be big."

"I don't know what you're talking about Molly." He actually looked confused. But Molly wasn't buying it for a minute, she was far to upset.

"Maybe Mary just pulled a gun on you." She laughed bitterly at the thought of her friends going to such lengths to make this evening happen. She wasn't just angry, she was hurt.

Sherlock stood up. "This was a mistake," he mumbled as fished some cash out of his pocket then tossed it onto the table. "I... apologise, Molly," he said grabbing for his coat.

"Of course it was a mistake," she snapped as she stood up and snatched her coat from the back of her chair. "I'm not some charity case. I get plenty of offers. I could have had a date tonight if I'd really wanted one," she continued her rant as followed him out of the restaurant.

On the pavement outside Sherlock turned on her with fury in his eyes. " _This_ is why I don't do these sort of things. I knew it wouldn't end well. Even the woman I trust most in this world can't..." He jerked away and stormed off. "Oh never mind!"

Molly chased after him. "No! What do you mean? What were you going to say? Sherlock!"

He stopped and took a deep breath before turning around once again. "No one threatened me to ask you out, Molly, I did so of my own accord." He paused, his eyes flicking over her face. "I did it because I... wanted to. Because I've wanted to for a long time." He put his hands on his hips and looked down at his feet.

Molly's anger evaporated in an instant and was replaced by confusion and a bit of fear. "Why did you lie?"

He huffed. "You were clearly not enjoying yourself. I... misjudged your feelings for me."

"Misjudged... you mean you thought that I liked you?"

He laughed bitterly, still not looking at her. "No. I thought that you were still in love with me."

When he finally looked at her again Molly saw something in his eyes that she'd never seen before, _hurt_. Genuine hurt feelings. _Oh... shit. What have I done?_

"Now, if you'll excuse me. I will just be heading home with the little bit of pride that I have left."

But before he could turn to leave Molly grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled him down until his lips met hers. "I'm sorry," she whispered against his lips. It was an awkward first kiss, to say the least. Sherlock was certainly caught off guard and Molly could barely reach him, also she was trying to talk and kiss at the same time. Finally she released him. "I didn't know." She moved her hands to the back of his neck, holding him tightly. "Forgive me?"

He gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Does that mean..."

"Yes, it does. And I would have enjoyed myself if I had known." Sherlock removed Molly's hands from around his neck and for a second she thought that her heart had stopped.

"Well then, should we try this again with your new found knowledge?" He held her hands running, his thumbs across her knuckles. "I feel the same, and I want to spend this utterly pointless holiday with you if you can promise to refrain from stabbing with cutlery."

"I think I can handle that," she said with a smile.

"Good. So where to next?"

"Can we just go somewhere and talk?" Molly asked, though she had something else on her mind.

Sherlock studied her for a moment, then he gently cradled her head in his hands. "I don't think that's what you really want, Doctor."

His voice sent shivers down her spine.

"Besides, we've spent the last six years talking." He closed the distance and grazed her lips with his ever so lightly. Then he trailed kisses along her cheek and jaw and neck. "It's a romantic holiday, after all," he whispered. "Baker Street?"

"Yeah, that'd be... lovely." She giggled almost not believing the turn that the evening had taken.

He offered her his arm, which she gladly took, as they stepped to the curb and he hailed a cab.

* * *

 _Hope you liked it. Let me know! ~Lil~_


	14. A Young Man's Observations

For day one of Sherlolly _Appreciation Week. Queen of the Mind Palace, canon compliant prompt. Thanks to MizJoely for betaing this for me. It's rated **K.**_

 _I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-A Young Man's Observations-**

The orderly stood and watched the tall man, the patient, stare at the wall as he had been for the last forty-five minutes. Michael had only been working at the rehab center for six months, but he had found it to be the most rewarding half year of his life. Sure he was just a mere nursing assistant, however here he was treated with respect, unlike at the last hospital where he'd worked. The doctors and senior nurses at this facility listened to everyone who came into contact with the residents.

Over the month since Mr. Holmes had arrived, Michael had spent a great deal of time observing the man, he was a bit of a celebrity after all. Oh, he knew better than to ever breathe a word outside these polished halls about the people with whom he was entrusted. But that didn't keep him from being curious.

The Great Detective had been completely belligerent the first week, deducing everyone within an inch of their lives. The staff had been briefed about his tendencies, though some of them had been reduced to tears. Michael was fascinated. After Mr. Holmes had insulted each employee and any other residents he could find, he seemed to withdraw into himself. He didn't participate in group, at least the ones that Michael had witnessed. He spent most of his time on the terrace chain smoking and avoiding contact with others.

Today, this behaviour, this was new. He seemed to be speaking silently to himself. Occasionally saying a word out loud, though Michael couldn't hear him. He moved slightly closer. That's when he heard him: _Hooper_ , he was saying. Mr. Holmes' eyes were unfocused, though that wasn't abnormal. Most of the patients looked quite lost at this stage.

"Hooper," he said it again. He spoke the word with reverence, like a prayer.

Michael was intrigued. He had no business prying, but he thought he should at least alert his supervisor.

When he did, the senior staff member dismissed it. "Who knows. At this point I doubt he's even aware of what he's saying."

"He's not still being dosed is he, sir?"

"No, his brother requested he be given nothing that wasn't absolutely necessary. He does employ some kind of memory technique, perhaps he's trying to remember something. Keep an eye on him son, you're doing a fine job."

"What if it's important? Something to do with a case?" Michael asked.

The older man smiled. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Do I have permission to check his file, see if I can find a connection?"

"Who's the detective now?" He laughed kindly. "Go ahead. Let me know if you find a _clue_." He winked.

So the young nursing assistant was granted access to Mr. Holmes' files. It didn't take long to find the name Hooper. The name was on the list of people allowed admittance to the facility. _Who are you?_ he wondered. He told his boss what he'd found and asked if he could make contact with this Hooper.

"Now, you're playing with fire, son."

"He's not participating in any of his recovery, sir. He's not improving," Michael argued.

"I'll have to speak with his brother first. I will let you know."

Michael went back into the public room, Mr. Holmes was nowhere to be found. He wasn't on the terrace either. When the young man walked toward the patient rooms and glanced in to see if the enigmatic detective was there he felt himself being pushed from behind. Suddenly he was shoved up against a closed door and the man in question was inches from his face.

"What gives you the right?" Mr. Holmes growled.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly who I am, so you know that lying to me is completely pointless. What gives you the right to pry into my personal life?"

Though panic was rising, Michael knew he had to at least attempt to be brave. "I heard what you were saying. I simply wanted to help."

Mr. Holmes looked confused for a split second. " _Saying_?"

"You were whispering Hooper over and over again. I was given permission to look in your file. I- I thought a visit would do you some good… that's all." The older and _larger_ man released his hold and stepped back. "Though how on earth you figured out what I did, I'd love know," he said rubbing his throat.

"I said that name out loud?"

"Yes, yes you did."

He waved a hand casually in the air, turning half away from the orderly. "Means nothing. Eight more weeks of this pointless sentimental time-wasting, and I can get back to my life." He turned back to Michael. "Hooper is none of your concern. Do you understand?"

"Of course, sorry sir." Michael started to leave. "Can I just say something before I leave and you go back to brooding and feeling sorry for yourself?"

Mr. Holmes actually looked shocked. "You can try."

"You looked peaceful. While you were speaking that name, you looked peaceful for the first time since you arrived. I thought if you saw her…"

The man cut him off with a smile. A very unpleasant smile. "You're quite wrong, young man. Seeing Miss Hooper will bring me no peace." He turned and paced to the window.

* * *

Unfortunately Michael had already set things into motion. He spoke to his boss and told him about his encounter with the detective. Evidently Mr. Holmes Sr. saw his brother's outburst as a positive rather than a negative. It made absolutely no sense to the young man.

The next day as he watched a petite woman walk through the visitor's entrance dressed in a lose fitting jumper and trouser combination, he was more than shocked. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. She was small and, well, perhaps plain would be the best way to describe her. The closer she got, however he saw her large brown eyes and delicate features. There was a loveliness about her, that was clear.

She was escorted to the visitors lounge and a doctor and nurse went to fetch Mr. Holmes. The orderly followed at a distance, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Michael instantly knew that they hadn't informed the man about the visit. He stopped and stared when saw the woman. She stood up and smiled. Mr. Holmes did not.

He was very concerned that this was about to go horribly wrong. Then suddenly the woman crossed the room to stand in front of Mr. Holmes. Michael could just make out what was said as she inched closer to the man.

"You were angry, so… angry," Mr. Holmes said.

"When, Sherlock? I haven't even seen you," she replied softly.

"I thought… no, you did. You hated me."

She smiled as she cried. "I've never hated you. What on earth are you talking about? And I'm not angry. I'm sad."

He nodded and his demeanor seemed to change as he looked at the woman in front of him. "You should, you know. After… everything. But I thought it was over… I thought…"

"It's not now. Mycroft, he told me…"

"Please don't tell me you've been spending time with _him_ in my absence."

She laughed, though tears were still pouring down her cheeks. The detective reached up and carefully wiped her tears away with his thumbs. "I've never actually seen you cry before, Molly. I don't deserve these."

Michael felt intensely guilty for witnessing such a personal exchange.

"Don't do this to yourself again. The world needs you, Sherlock. I need you. Even if…"

He cut her off. "Can you forgive me?" he asked, still holding her face his hands.

She nodded and he released her.

He cleared his throat. "Okay good. I suppose… I should try a bit harder. Perhaps I can get out of this hell hole sooner that way."

"Just… be well. That's all any of us want."

"Is that _all_ you want, Molly?" he asked.

Several moments passed as they stared at each other. Finally she spoke. "I'd also like a hug. You've never hugged me, Sherlock. And like I said… I'm sad."

The man grabbed the tiny woman and pulled her close, holding her to his chest, his head resting on her shoulder. There were more words spoken, but Micheal had to turn and walk away. He'd seen enough. Besides it was time for his break. He went outside for a fag.

He sat down on a wooden bench and pulled out his mobile. "Annabelle?" Pause. "No, nothing's wrong, I just had a moment and wanted to say hi." Pause. "Calm down. Can't a man call his girlfriend for no reason other than to tell her that he loves her?" He laughed. "Yeah, really that's it." Pause. "I'm coming by tonight after work, okay? I love you," he said before ringing off.

* * *

 _Thanks. Love a review. ~Lil~_


	15. As Seen On CCTV

_Okay, I blame this bit of crackiness on my husband and MaybeItsJustMyType. It's all their fault. Thanking MizJoely for betaing it for me (and for the title!) and MrsMCrieff for a bit of Brit help! Bless! Rated **T**._

 _I own nothing. Enjoy. ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-As Seen On CCTV-**

Roger Dickens loved his job, he loved serving his country, and he really loved dressing in black suits every day. Being an MI5 agent was both exciting and rewarding. But what he loved most about his job was... watching CCTV surveillance footage of his bosses little brother! He was one of four agents who spent hours keeping a close watch on Sherlock Holmes. When he first got the assignment he was certain he was being punished, though he couldn't figure out exactly what he'd done wrong. But after the first week he realised there was never a dull moment with the younger Holmes and it became rather apparent that the other agents felt the same. Especially where one pretty young pathologist was concerned.

* * *

Anna Smithson came into the room and handed Roger his tea. "So, what'd I miss?" she asked.

"Nothing. He's not there yet, but he left Baker Street seven minutes ago complaining about boredom and his landlady practically pushed him out the door. He's headed toward Barts," he replied.

Anna sat down next to him and got ready for the show. "How does he not see it, I wonder?"

"You're so young, still so fresh-faced. I was like you once," he said, then took a sip of his tea.

"Don't mock me. I just don't understand how he could be in such deep denial."

"We've all asked the same question. I've basically given up hope," he said. "That doesn't mean I can't enjoy the show."

"No! I can't accept that. They're perfect for each other."

Roger looked at her and smiled. "Anna, I truly hope you never lose your child-like spirit."

She punched him in the arm.

He pretended that it hurt. "We've all been watching them for ages. You missed the two years that they lived together on and off."

"Oh, something _had_ to have happened then."

"No." He shook his head sadly. "Of course we had her place wired from top to bottom back then. Well, except for her bedroom and bathroom. You should have seen them dancing around each other. Him staring at her when she wasn't looking. Her practically salivating on him when he'd walk around in naught but a towel. The fits he'd throw after she'd leave for a date. Thank God she hasn't done _that_ since that Tom fellow." He glanced at the monitors. "Oh look there he is."

"Turn it up," Anna said as they concentrated on the main screen.

" _Molly!"_ Sherlock said as he burst through the door.

The pathologist jumped at the sudden intrusion.

"He gonna give her a heart attack one of these days," Roger commented.

"Shhhh!" Anna scolded.

" _I need to work, Molly. Anything!"_ Sherlock was pacing around the nervous woman. _"You have any spleens?"_

" _Have you called Greg? Perhaps he has something."_

He stopped and turned to her. _"Who?"_

She shook her head and walked away from the detective. _"Sherlock I'm sorry but I don't have time for you today. I- I have plans and need to finish..."_

" _Plans? What plans?"_ he spit at her.

"Ohhhhh NO!" Anna said as she leaned toward the screen.

" _I'm ah... going out."_

" _You'll have to elaborate, Molly,"_ Sherlock said, his tone harsh as he walked toward the pathologist.

"She doesn't want to tell him. Even _she_ knows it!" Anna said as she reached for a biscuit.

" _I have a... date, Sherlock,"_ Molly said. _"I'm going out on a date with a nice, not criminal, doctor. He asked me out and I'm going."_

Roger picked up his mobile and started frantically thumbing through his contacts.

"What are you doing?" Anna asked.

"Letting Mr. Holmes know he's going to have to replace most of the equipment in the Path Lab at St. Barts. He likes to know these things in advance," he explained as he typed.

" _So soon after the end of your engagement? How will that look?"_ Sherlock asked.

" _It's not soon. It's been nearly a year. Also, it's very much none of you business,"_ Molly said, inching closer to the detective.

"You go girl!" Anna exclaimed. "Go get Matthew! He needs to see this! Too bad Jacobs is off today. He's missing a good one!"

Roger jumped up and ran out of the room.

" _Your reputation_ is _actually my business,_ Doctor. _"_ He moved closer to Molly. _"How will it look if..."_

" _If what? If I date? How could that possibly a_ _ffect_ _you, Sherlock? It's not like you're ever going to do anything about it."_

She turned to walk away and Sherlock grabbed her arm, pulling her back towards him. They stared at each other for several moments, neither making the next move. It was killing Anna. "KISS her for God's sake!"

Just then Roger came rushing back in with Matthew in tow.

"Look!" she shouted, pointing at the screen.

Matthew shrugged. "What? Like they haven't been that close to a kiss before?" He looked at the female agent. "You're so young and sweet."

"It's gonna happen!"

Molly jerked out of Sherlock's hold. _"I didn't think so,"_ she said, then turned and walked into her office.

Matthew patted a very disappointed Anna on the back. "Don't feel bad. We all get excited at our first near Sherlolly kiss." He got a dreamy look on his face. "I was watching the night he asked her to help him fake his death." He sighed. "I thought they were gonna shag right there like three different times."

"I can't believe a group of grown men, trained MI5 agents no less, came up with a ship name like Sherlolly," Anna scoffed.

Roger spoke up. "Hey, I voted for Mollock, but Matthew and David said it sounded like a deep sea creature."

Anna made a face. "They were right, Sherlolly's better. It's adorable."

"Ahh guys." Matthew pointed at the screen and all three watched as Sherlock kicked a stool, sending it across the lab.

"It's just a stool. Not so bad," Anna said.

He knocked over a stack of files, sending them flying all over the place. Then he picked up a glass staining dish holding several slides and threw it across the room.

"Shit!" all three agents said together.

Molly suddenly appeared in the doorway of her office. _"Have you lost your mind?"_

" _The slides were useless or you would_ _n't have left th_ _em out,"_ he replied, running his hands through his hair.

" _I don't give a flying fuck, Sherlock. You can't have one of your fits here, this is a hospital!"_

" _Oh, I'm sorry I thought it was a singles bar since you're clearly on the pull!"_

She shook her head. _"That's so unfair."_

" _Life's unfair, Molly. It's time you learned that."_

She started walking toward the exit. _"Where are you going? Who's gonna clean up this mess?"_

She turned to him. _"Not me, Sherlock. You're not my mess to clean up. You never have been and clearly never will be."_

"God this is better than Holby City," Anna said sounding choked up.

Molly's hand was on the door handle when Sherlock rushed forward, putting both hands on her shoulders. _"No, don't go."_

The pathologist seemed to be frozen in indecision. Just then the door to the surveillance room opened and Mycroft Holmes walked in. All three agents stood up but didn't take their eyes off of the monitor.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Ah, w-well sir..." Matthew stammered.

Mycroft walked over until he could see the screen. "Are they fighting again?" he asked.

Anna put her hand on her bosses arm. "She's got a date. He's trying to stop her," she whispered.

Mycroft gasped. "Is it... is it finally happening?"

The agents looked at their boss then back to the screen when Sherlock spoke again.

" _I_ am _your mess. I want to be,"_ he said.

Molly turned. _"My God, Sherlock. Why did that take nearly six years?"_ She slipped her arms around his neck.

" _Not my area, Dr. Hooper. I... I..."_

" _Oh shut up and kiss me."_

The agents all sighed in unison as Sherlock Holmes kissed his pathologist for the first time. Then Mycroft switched the monitors off.

"I believe they require some privacy. Don't you three have some paperwork you could be doing?" he asked as he straightened his waistcoat.

They all nodded and left with huge smiles on their faces.

Mycroft pulled out his mobile. "Mummy. I have news..."

* * *

 _All right, let me have it! I'm ready, I think! Thanks so much! ~Lil~_


	16. A Brother's Intervention

_**gcintia** on tumblr said: Do you think that if Mycroft were at Christmas party he would know why Sherlock said those things to Molly and why he made his apologies? Can Someone please write a fic about he being in some kind situation like that, please?_

 _That Christmas party with a slightly different out come. Mycroft isn't really a rubbish big brother, just sort of. Sorry about the angsty feels. I have no beta here, please excuse my mistakes. This one's rated **G**._

 _I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-A Brother's Intervention-**

 _Bloody Hell!_ Mycroft cursed inwardly, watching in awe as Sherlock verbally attacked Dr. Hooper in front of the small group of people. _Her breasts, Sherlock? At least_ pretend _to have some tact._

Mycroft knew _of_ the young doctor who assisted his brother at Barts from time to time, though they'd never met. He'd seen her file, she'd been vetted. She was a competent pathologist, well respected and well liked. On top of that she must have had the patience of Job Himself to put up with his little brother's antics.

 _Of course the gift was for you, you idiot! Look at her shoes, for God's sake! Give me strength, he's apologis… A kiss?! In front of people?!_ He cleared his throat causing Sherlock to turn sharply and make eye contact. Sherlock quickly strode away, looking decidedly uncomfortable. _Ah, his distraction was never about Adler. It's this girl- well, even_ I _can see that she's a woman in that dress._

He'd seen this kind of behaviour before from the younger man, but not since his adolescence. When he was younger, Sherlock would often attack at the first sign of rejection or rebuke. Thankfully he'd developed a slightly tougher skin as he'd matured, at least where _that_ was concerned. Cutting someone down for the sake of making a point was a trait that they _both_ shared, though Mycroft prided himself on the actual use of subtlety whereas his brother just went in for the kill. Sherlock rarely held his sharp tongue when provoked or on the defensive. But this was something else entirely. _This was a preemptive strike._

The tension in the room was oppressive, even for Mycroft. Tension he could handle, it was part of his job, but this… this was sentimental and personal. Simply not his cup of tea. Sherlock was pacing like a caged animal as John tried to get him to accept an offered drink. With a sigh Mycroft approached the pair, noting Dr. Hooper's location across the room as she spoke with DI Lestrade and some woman whom he did not know, nor did he care to.

"A moment, brother dear?" he said as he walked up.

"Not now Mycroft," Sherlock growled back.

"It's rather important." He looked at John then back to his brother. "About the case."

With a defeated shrug, Sherlock started walking toward his bedroom and Mycroft followed. Once inside the younger man turned and said, "What?"

"That was a lovely show you put on out there. Mummy would be proud."

"Sod off."

" _Language_ ," Mycroft warned.

"Isn't it bad enough that I'm forced to endure this… holiday gathering? I'm not in need of a scolding from you, of all people. Why are you even here?"

"Mrs. Hudson's fruit cake." He motioned to the bed. "Sit."

And he did, throwing Mycroft a petulant glare in the process.

After a moment the older man said, "It's not an advantage, you know." Sherlock remained silent. "All Hearts break in the end." He was speaking from personal experience and he knew that his little brother was aware of this.

"Too many people in my inner sanctum. This has nothing to do with _hearts_ ," Sherlock spit back.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "You may be able to get away with that when dealing with the simpletons of this world, but I am not one of them and you know it." His hands in his pockets he crossed the room and looked out at the light snow fall. "I do understand though. She's… different, isn't she?"

Several minutes passed before Sherlock spoke again. "Yes. Special."

As he turned he appraised the younger man. Sherlock suddenly looked a bit like a child sitting on the edge of his bed, knees drawn close to his chest, his face screwed up in a pout. Crossing back over to close the distance he said, "You didn't mean to hurt her. She accepted your apology. All is well." It was the best he could really offer, though he knew it wasn't nearly enough. He was at the door, his hand poised to open it when Sherlock spoke again.

"Can't I, just this once have… something special?" His voice was low, defeated.

Mycroft winced, thankful that his back was turned. "Perhaps some day, my dear brother. But not today," he said before leaving the room.

* * *

 _Thanks so much for reading. Love a review ~Lil~_


	17. A Brother's Deduction

_This is a follow up to A Brother's Intervention. Sorry for the sads, hope this makes up for it. Years later at yet another Christmas party, Mycroft makes a deduction about his brother... then stuff happens. Rated **G.**_

 _Big thanks to MizJoely for betaing this and to gcintia for the original prompt._

 _I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

 **-A Brother's Deduction-**

Sherlock was pacing; he really couldn't stop. He did everything in his power to ignore the room full of people, to focus on what would be happening later, but he was experiencing a bout of nerves. A distracting amount of them. He wished he could just get it over with, but was on a schedule and some things couldn't be rushed. Timing really _was_ everything.

Mrs. Hudson floated in with a tray of nibbles and started passing them around. _Well, now they'll never leave,_ he thought as he listened to Lestrade drone on about his most recent reconciliation with that adulterous wife of his. Donovan looked properly annoyed at having to listen to her boss's marital woes. Mary and Molly were fussing over little Ella Watson. Though he had to admit that the infant did look wonderfully festive in her red velvet dress. He allowed himself a moment's reprieve from his brooding to admire his Goddaughter, then went back to scowling at the rest of the party goers. John was chatting with Mike Stamford, who both had tumblers of the ridiculously overpriced scotch that Mycroft had brought along out of courtesy or tradition or some such nonsense. He groaned as he made another pass. Looking at his watch he thought, _Thirty minutes and counting…_

* * *

Mycroft watched his little brother pace the room and thought back to another Christmas, a much darker one he'd call it if he were feeling poetic, which he wasn't. He was feeling… _uneasy_. Several years before he'd advised Sherlock to ignore his heart in regards to Molly Hooper, and for once Mycroft could admit that he'd made a mistake.

Even though he still believed that caring for people and letting them in was, in most cases, a mistake, he could now see the benefit of someone like Molly in his brother's life. With John moving on and no longer able to be his brother's keeper, Miss Hooper was just the kind of person he needed to help keep Sherlock in line. He firmly believed that she could accomplish the task, perhaps even better than John. He knew his brother well enough to know that his feelings for the small brunette had never wavered.

 _Now… how to make it happen?_

Molly seemed to have moved on from her crush or infatuation or whatever she'd once felt for Sherlock. Seeing him at his worst no doubt played a part in her now less idealised opinion of the man. Mycroft Holmes was a minor government official, not a matchmaker, but he could and would find a way… Suddenly he noticed Molly looking at Sherlock. Though his brother had been sneaking glances all evening (which wasn't unusual), now it seemed that they were trying to wordlessly communicate with one another. He watched the two of them closely and thought that Miss Hooper might be attempting to, what? Pacify him? Urge him to stop his infernal pacing? Sherlock, for his part, shook his head with a heavy sigh and a petulant look, but did manage to still his legs.

 _Time to act._ He was aware that his motives were self serving, but keeping his brother from self harm was always top priority. "Sherlock," he said as he approached the younger man, "may I have a word?"

"You may not," was his abrupt answer.

 _Still a child_. They were standing in the far corner of the room, out of earshot of the attendees. "Fine, I'll say my piece and leave you to it. Several years ago you asked me a question regarding Dr. Hooper, I assume you remember?"

Sherlock eyed him suspiciously. "Indeed."

"Well, now's the time, brother. Seize the day." He cringed internally at the cliché, but he was trying to make a point. "In this last year the game has changed and I feel that perhaps the addition of romantic sentiment in your life would not hinder you as much as I once believed."

Mycroft instantly saw his brother attempting to cover an emotion, but it happened so quickly that he could not decipher it.

"You're telling me that I should pursue a… sexual relationship with Dr. Hooper? Am I hearing you correctly?"

The older man stiffened. "Don't be crass. What you do in your own home…"

"Has always interested you, don't try to deny it."

"Only when it comes to the reckless disregard to your own mortality!" he hissed.

They paused their debate to take a drink; Mycroft had his scotch, Sherlock was drinking water.

"Not that I ever required your permission, but I'll consider it."

"That's all I ask," Mycroft said before walking away feeling fairly confident that he'd started the ball rolling. Things should progress naturally from there… he supposed.

* * *

It was all Sherlock could do to keep from busting out in laughter. His instinct was to tell Mycroft just how much he'd missed this time, rub it right in his face. But then he recognised an opportunity for revenge… and it would be magnificent.

It was time, he noticed as he looked at his watch. He paced across the room once more, making sure to catch Molly's eye. With a wink and a slight smile, he signaled her to join him. They stood by the drinks table and pretended to pour themselves refreshments.

"I'm nervous," Molly whispered.

"It'll be fine, Molly. We've been over this."

"I know but…"

"It's time," he said as he rounded on her. Taking her hand he turned to the crowd of people in his sitting room. "May we have your attention please?" All eyes focused on the pair of them. "Molly and I have some news." He squeezed her hand, giving her the floor.

"I'm pregnant!" she said, sounding terrified and hopeful at the same time.

The room was absolutely silent. The group of people stared seemingly in awe.

"We're pregnant," she clarified. "Sherlock and I are having a baby." No one spoke. "Together." Turning to him she said, "A little help?"

 _Tedious_. "Molly and I have been in a relationship since February of this year. A sexual one and very committed. Now she and I are having a child together. What about this is so hard to comprehend?" he asked, knowing full well what had caused the mass catatonia, but now that it was finally out he was rather enjoying himself.

Mary Watson was the first to react. _No shock there._ She stood up from the settee and made her way to the couple. "Congratulations! This is wonderful."

Mrs. Hudson let out a squeal and tackled Sherlock in a surprisingly strong hug. That seemed to shake the crowd out of their collective stupor and the two were engulfed by their friends as they all offered them best wishes.

John, of course, was barely concealing his fury but agreed to 'talk it out' at a later date, which Sherlock took to mean he'd be on the receiving end of another of his friend's closed fists.

Once everyone settled back, giving Molly room to breathe at Sherlock's insistence, Mycroft made his way over, a look of annoyance on his face. "Congratulations are in order."

Sherlock didn't even attempt to hide his glee. "Yes, they are. We fooled you. You never even had a clue."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "I was referring to your…news, Sherlock. You're going to be a father, don't you think it's time to grow up?"

"You missed it! Ah, this is _Christmas_!" the detective said, beaming.

"It actually _is_ Christmas, Sherlock. Stop gloating," Molly chastised. "Thank you, Mycroft. I only wish your parents could have been here."

"Yes, they will be sad to have missed this. But apparently Branson, Missouri during the holidays is a sight to behold." He turned to his brother as Molly excused herself. "How?"

"Oh dear," Sherlock said, feigning pity. "It's to do with sex, Mycroft. Didn't Mummy give you the talk? She did me."

" _Sherlock…_ "

The younger man laughed, then said, "I assumed you knew. Until this evening when you offered me your… Was that advice or permission? I couldn't tell."

Mycroft shook his head. "Well, you did it. You fooled me and you weren't even trying." A beat passed before he spoke again. "This life suits you, Sherlock. Molly suits you. I am… pleased."

"Thank you,"

"Now, I must be off…" He started to leave.

"It wasn't the time," Sherlock said, halting his brother's departure.

"What?"

"You were right, that evening. It had to happen this way. I wasn't, well, I'm still not good enough for her, but at the time… it would have ended badly." Sherlock hated the uncomfortable conversation, but knew that it needed to be said.

"Everything worked out, then."

He nodded; his brother turned to go, but he called out to him one more time. "Don't forget your fruitcake, Mycroft."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading, reviews make my day ~Lil~_


	18. Wanna See My Cadavers?

_This is a fun little ficlet that was inspired by a story my husband told (see the bottom for the actual story) last night. It's_ uniLock _,_ parentLock _and rated **G**. Thanks to MizJoley for betaing it for me. I'm gifting it to MrsMCrieff. _

_I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

 **\- Wanna See My Cadavers? -**

"How'd you two meet?" she asked his parents, causing Hal to cringe, slap his hand over his face and groan.

 _"Please don't do this…"_ he mumbled.

"What?" Patricia defended. "They're adorable!"

"I'll go to your gram's birthday party _and_ let her call me Calvin without correcting her."

"She gets confused. And you do have a, ah…" She cut her eyes to her boyfriend's mother. "An interesting name…"

"Take it back!" he begged. "Tell them you really don't care about their meetcute!"

"Too late, Halifax," his mother said, before taking a drink of tea. "He's gone to get The Box."

 _"Bollocks!"_

" **Language!"** both women scolded.

His father reemerged with an old shoe box that Hal knew would frighten off the girl he was quite interested in spending much more time with.

"Here we are…" he said, motioning for Hal and Patricia to move apart. "Molly, would you like to tell it or shall I?"

"Go ahead, Sherlock, I'll pick up if you make any mistakes," his wife replied.

"Fat bloody chance…"

o0o0o0o0o

"I don't understand it!" Sherlock whinged.

John smirked. "I know, hard to believe, isn't it?"

Packing up his laptop, he said, "What's wrong with these kids!?" He hadn't wanted to participate in this ridiculous "Math-Science Academy", but it was required… Well, it was required for him since he'd skived off several classes and his professors were clearly punishing him.

"I blame rock music," the med student deadpanned as he picked the tri-fold display board, huffing in frustration when Sherlock motioned for him to do it.

Sherlock ignored him; he certainly wasn't going to carry it. That's why he'd brought John in the first place. "Right?!" Finishing packing up in less than thirty seconds, he motioned for his best friend to follow. "I only got three of those little miscreants to sign my damned participation form…"

"And all of them thought that you were giving out free cigarettes," John laughed.

"Absurd!" he scoffed. "As if I'd waste fags on these **simpletons**!" he shouted the last word at a group of unsuspecting teens.

"Hey!" John held up his hands, trying to calm the man down and smiling at the kids. _"Sorry, he's off his meds,"_ he whispered.

"I heard that!"

"You hear everything."

The pair continued, John following after Sherlock until…

"Where are we going?" the med student asked as they walked. "Why are we in the basement?"

The only good thing about the event was that it was being held in Quigley Hall, the lower half of which held the biology and life sciences departments. Sherlock was determined that the day wouldn't be an entire waste.

"Are you going to try to steal an arm again? 'Cause, you know, I don't want to have anything to do with…"

Just then they walked around a corner, coming up on a small woman wearing glasses and a white lab coat.

"Oops! Hi!" she said cheerfully. "Wanna see my cadavers?"

The men looked at each other, then back to the woman.

"Yes..?" Sherlock answered, not really sure what was going on but who would turn down a corpse?

The woman beamed. "Really?! No one else came to my presentation. Odd, don't you think? I mean who turns down a corpse?"

John laughed but Sherlock was gobsmacked. He finally got a good look at the woman. She was tiny and… quite pretty. Those weren't glasses, she was wearing, but goggles. _And they're splattered with blood_! As was her lab coat, on closer inspection.

"You're a pathology student," he observed.

She nodded then turned, pointing to a sign just to her left that read: _Pathology… we go elbows deep to find the evidence._ As if that wasn't horrible enough, she had also - he quickly deduced that the strange (but adorable) woman was responsible for the dry erase monstrosity - drawn dead bodies, complete with Xs for eyes and various vital organs lying about. She wasn't a bad artist, all things considered. Though she might have overdone it with the excessive 'droplets of blood'.

For the first (and last, as it would turn out) time in his life, Sherlock Holmes thought he might be in love.

"John," he said, shoving his laptop toward his amused friend. "Don't wait up."

 _"What?"_ the confused man asked.

Sherlock smiled at the woman. "I'd be happy to see your cadavers… I'm sorry, I didn't get your name?"

"Oh, Molly. Molly Hooper."

He stepped forward and took her hand, lightly kissing the back of it. "Molly Hooper," he said, letting the syllables roll off of his tongue. "Shall we?"

o0o0o0o0o

"Awww" Hal's excited girlfriend squealed. "That is so adorable!"

Hal just rolled his eyes.

"It's also _wrong_ ," Mum said with a huff.

"What, pray tell, did I get wrong, dearheart?" his dad asked.

"I did _not_ overdo the blood on the sign."

His father just rolled his eyes.

Patricia giggled. "What's in the box?"

"Ah, yes. I took pictures of our first autopsy," Dad explained.

"You're kidding?!" she exclaimed and Hal cringed…again.

 _Here it comes. Another one bites the dust! And I really like her…_

"Ooo! Actual photos?" She looked from his dad to his mum. "Fascinating. Can you talk me through it, though? I'm afraid I don't know much about pathology, but I'd love to learn."

His parents both grinned and Hal breathed a sigh of relief. _Okay, so maybe they wouldn't scare this one off…_

* * *

Okay, so here's the story…

My husband (such a nerd) went to something called Math-Science Academy at a nearby college when he was like 16. He has a ton of funny stories about the 'camp' and last night he was telling the boys one of them that I'd forgotten about. Evidently, he was finished with one of the projects, wandering around, looking for something to do, and came upon the biology/life sciences department. This strange little man walked up and said (I quote): "wanna see my cadavers?". Of course, Mr Lil said yes (like who wouldn't?). It inspired me and there you have it. Cheers and thanks for reading! ~Lil~


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